


let yourself be enchanted

by acastle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M, Mentions of canonical Harry Potter characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Which means, I’ve got a Charms post to fill. And do you know who he suggested for the job?”</p>
<p>Harry doesn’t trust the wide beam on his face, and Louis goes on, “Well, he’d told me about this bloke. Class of 2011, student rank number three but top at Charms of his class, Hufflepuff, prefect, atrocious Quidditch player, but he makes a great treacle tart-”</p>
<p>“He suggested me?” Harry says blankly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>(Hogwarts and co-teachers AU, all in one.)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	let yourself be enchanted

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I really wanted to do this aha this was so fun. Right off the bat, I will freely admit that this is ridiculous, and very all over the place, millions of things happening at once, but that was the fun in it, and I hope it comes across all the same. I wrote this as closely to the facts presented in the books, but I also took plenty of liberties with it as well. Their Houses are debatable, of course, but in the grand spectrum of things, it doesn't really matter in this fic.
> 
> To clarify: this takes place in 2020.
> 
> _(slight edit)_ I came up with the idea of having a universe in which the boys were teachers at Hogwarts while in the shower, and I freaked out about it to several people. To Arwa, to Emily, and especially to [Taylor](http://www.2012niall.tumblr.com), who had freaked out with me and what we went on about is mostly found in here.

Harry’s not quite sure how or why Louis Tomlinson is standing outside his mum’s door a few weeks into August, but he is, with the same manic grin he’s had for years and his hair’s finally cut from the last time they’d seen each other during the holidays, and he announces himself, walking past Harry and coming in, yelling, “Headmaster Tomlinson has arrived!”

“Louis, hello love,” Anne is saying from the kitchen, where she’s waving her wand around at the different pots and pans as she’s making lunch. Louis gives her a kiss on the cheek and she tells him, “Been so long. Stay for lunch, then, will you?”

“Too long, yes, and of course! Could never turn down your cooking,” he says, and Harry is still staring at him dumbly, which makes him look more pathetic with the bun his hair’s in and the lilac apron covered in batter and icing. He’d been making cupcakes for dessert, and in his defense, had not been able to clean up when Louis  _ Alohomora’d  _ the door. “Could say hello to me, Harry.”

“Lou, what are you doing here?” he asks instead, blinking. “Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts? You know, um, doing your job?”

“It’s summer, I get to relax too,” he says, taking a seat at the table and immediately the plates and utensils direct themselves in front of him to position, ready for the meal. He makes a pleased noise and salutes them, and Harry glares at him. 

“Youngest Headmaster in centuries and this is how you start off your tenure,” Harry sighs, magicking the apron away with a flick of his wand, and goes to help his mum, only to be waved away. “Why did McGonagall make you next in line-”

“Excuse you, Haz, I can be perfectly responsible,” he says, waves his wand about and then the forks and knives are nodding along with him, then turning away haughtily when Harry tries to touch them. 

“Not working yourself too hard, now then, Lou?” Anne is asking him as she carries in the platter of chicken, the plates of potatoes and boats of gravy flying in behind her and settling down on the table themselves. “You shouldn’t, not someone as young as you. You should have some fun while you’re at the post.”

“Yes, words to live by. Of course, Anne,” he grins, and makes himself a plate. 

Harry huffs at him, and waves his wand so that the now cooled cupcakes can frost themselves as he eats. “To what do we owe the pleasure then, Louis?” he asks, sighs resignedly as he cuts into his chicken portion. 

“Ah, yes, well, dunno if you’ve heard, but Wood’s decided to retire,” he says nonchalantly, but Harry drops his fork.

“Professor Wood?” he says, and Louis nods around his mouthful of potatoes.

“Yeah, so the Charms post’s been left unoccupied, and-”

“Charms? Louis, I don’t know how well you know your faculty, but Wood taught Defense-”

“-Against the Dark Arts,” Louis completes, rolling his eyes at him. “Honestly, Harry, as if I’d forget the man who’d taught me how to do a proper Jelly-Legs Jinx.”

“Then why are you going on about how the Charms post? Niall’s the best teacher after Flitwick,” he says, tries not to let his blush show, but Louis raises an eyebrow at him and he wants to jinx him, just a bit. 

“He is, but you know how Niall is, can do just about anything. So he’s offered to take the D.A.D.A. job,” Louis explains, and Harry drops his knife this time. “Which means, I’ve got a Charms post to fill. And do you know who he suggested for the job?” 

Harry doesn’t trust the wide beam on his face, and Louis goes on, “Well, he’d told me about this bloke. Class of 2011, student rank number three but top at Charms of his class, Hufflepuff, prefect, atrocious Quidditch player, but he makes a great treacle tart-”

“He suggested me?” Harry says blankly, and Anne makes a pleased noise and squeezes his hand. He doubts that he’s able to hide the pink from blooming across his skin, can't quite hide the way his heart warms at the thought of being thought of by Niall, but it’s a lost cause anyway, and he says, “Lou, how-”

“He’d heard from his brother that you’d quit your job at the Ministry,” Louis says, and Harry’s eyes darken. He’d had enough of the elf mistreatment and injustice. “He remembered how you’d always been so handy with the charms and everything, and he’d made a strong case for you,” he says, and he’s already getting another piece of chicken from the platter. “So! I’m here to woo you for the job, since he can’t be here to do it for me. Doing some Quidditch seminar for coaches in Bulgaria, talented little git-”

“Louis, what even makes you think that I can teach?” he asks.

“I don’t!” he answers, sounding entirely too happy about it, and Harry wants to jinx him, very, very much. “But I don’t think I can do any wrong if Niall suggests it. He seems to know too much for his own good, doesn’t he, Anne?”

“Bobby and Maura must be very proud,” she says, nodding at how great Niall is, and Harry flushes even further, because he agrees with them wholeheartedly, Niall is amazing at everything he sets his mind to, but his judgement might be a tad skewed. 

“Also, it’s not like you’d be the worst addition to the faculty, I’m still letting Zayn on even after three years of complaints that he makes too many hallucinogenic potions,” he shrugs, and Harry sighs, because of course he does. “And I’ve also kind of run out of time to find another person for the post, so.”

Harry sighs again, because  _ of course,  _ he’d left it to the last minute to solve. 

“Harry, take the job,” Gemma slinks through the cat door, ears flicking as she shakes out the sand from her fur. Her light brown eyes stare up at him, and it still unnerves him, how  _ human  _ they are even when she’s in cat form. Makes all the judging faces she makes all that much worse. 

“Gems!” Louis tries to scoop her up, but she hisses at him and swipes his hands away.

“Don’t you dare, you idiot,” she snarls, and Anne and Harry laugh behind Louis’ shocked figure. “Anyway. Take the job. Hard to find a better job nowadays, Ministry’s shit and as lovely as your cupcakes and pastries are, I’m getting sick of the smell.”

He frowns, doesn’t even react when Louis zaps one of the cakes from the rack and eats it. “You love my baking.”

“Didn’t you always say if there was a way to be closer to Niall, you’d take it?” she says, and he squawks while Louis and his mum laugh. Gemma shrugs at his shock, licking at her paw and rubbing behind her head. “Been gone for that boy for fifteen years, please Harry. Here’s your chance.”

“And the five of us will all be together again,” Louis says, offering Anne another cupcake he’s magicked into his hand. “Like old times. Madam Pomfrey misses you!”

He glares at Louis, who just laughs, and he puts down his utensils and takes a long, resigned pull from his wine. Says reluctantly, “I’ll give it a year, while you find a permanent replacement-”

“Ay, don’t front, I know you’re staying forever,” Louis says, jumping up then hugging him, making them topple to the ground. 

.

Being back in Hogwarts is the strangest thing. It still looks the same, still feels the same. And at the same time, completely different.

He deposits his things in his quarters for the year, and is milling about the corridors and hallways, and that’s when he’s found. 

“Harry!” he looks round to see Niall grinning at him, his hair changing instantly from a dirty blond to an absolutely shining gold, his cheeks pinking up and his skin literally glowing. Harry whimpers internally, but smiles on the outside and reels him in for a hug. They pull apart after a moment, and Niall beams at him, adjusting his glasses and Harry takes the time to take him in. Got some jeans and suede boots and a black, tight fitting shirt with long sleeves underneath his teacher’s robes, and the glasses he’ll never need but can’ts eem to do without, and Harry falls in love all over again. 

“Brave,” Niall remarks on his outfit, and Harry blushes, realizes belatedly that the floral shirt he’d left unbuttoned at the top might not be the most impressive choice for a teacher, but Niall laughs, says, “Suits you. Charming everyone already even when the classes haven’t started.”

It just makes Harry blush harder, and Niall smiles warmly at him, and he has to say something or he thinks he will actually melt into the ground. “Thank you, for recommending me to the post.”

“You always were the best at Charms,” he tells him, and Harry just ducks his head. 

“Not as good as you.”

Niall chuckles, and Harry can hear the adorable humility in his voice when he replies, “Ay, don’t be like that, you’re amazing. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

So he does, walks them around and he introduces the rest of the staff. Professor Longbottom, for Herbology, Professor Clearwater, of Transfiguration, Professor Vector, Arithmancy, Professor Pinnock, Ancient Runes. Of course, Professor Trelawney and Hagrid, Professor Binns, people he’s known for years, and it just adds to the strangeness of it all, that he is now their peer, rather than their student. Trelawney and Binns hardly give him a moment, merely staring at him for a moment before they float off in separate directions, Trelawney on her scarves and train, Binns on his lack of a physical body. Hagrid grins at him, squeezes the life out of him after he’s complimented his flowery top. 

“And, of course, the worst Potions Master Hogwarts has seen in many years,” Niall says as they approach Zayn, who’s drinking from a goblet and grinning up at them hazily. “Sick with the spells and everything, but no one can really learn from him, because he’s too cool and never makes lesson plans or shit, but it’s okay, he’s handsome and can make a mean Felix Felicis. Illegal, of course, in many instances. Right, Z?”

“You know it, Ni,” he says, standing to pull Harry into a hug. “Haz, good to see you. Welcome to the club, took you long enough.”

“Hi, Zayn” he hugs him back, and he’s offered a bit of what’s in the goblet, and Harry is immediately suspicious, so he shakes his head with a smile. 

“Also the worst Head of House, like, ever,” Niall says, smirking, “Gonna win it all again this year.”

Zayn raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, as if it’s a threat, before he gives up all pretense and shrugs, says, “Yeah, probably. Ravenclaw's still the coolest, but Liam might rally.”

“Harry!” he hears, coincidentally, and Liam’s approaching them then, wide beam on his face and looking like a proper professor, suit and robes and all. He’s hugged tightly, and Harry chuckles as Liam lifts him off the ground for a brief moment. 

“Of course, Professor Payne, Muggle Studies and newly appointed Head of Hufflepuff,” Niall says, completely unnecessary and yet. “Always wondering how the wizarding world can survive without the internet.”

“And who’s found a way to finally get the WiFi working,” he adds, smiling wider.  _ “‘Bill Wi, the Science Fi,’  _ password’s  _ ‘BIGPAYNOREMIX,’ _ all caps and no spaces.”

“Yes, Payno,” Niall says, smiling, and he looks at Harry, and his hair changes into a blooming blushy pink, and Harry's skin mimics the tone. 

“Ay, lads,” Louis jumps on Liam’s back, and everyone startles for a moment before they just begin to laugh. “All back here, knew the pull of Hogwarts couldn't be resisted.”

“Headmaster,” Zayn says, completely indulging him, and Louis grins at him, accepting the proffered goblet heartily. 

“Not on your life,” Liam says when Louis prods and waits for him to call him by the same name, and Niall and Harry shake their heads together. 

“For shame,” Louis tuts at them, taking another gulp at whatever's in the goblet, and he goes on to say, “This year’s going to be sick. Amazing.”

“Absolutely stupefying,” Zayn adds for him, and when Harry glances at Niall’s who’s glowing again and already looking at Harry, he blushes, fails to hide his face.

“Admiral Tomlinson,” Nearly Headless Nick floats in then, bowing with his head wobbling precariously as he pays respect to Louis, who salutes in turn.

“‘Admiral?’” Harry mutters weakly, and Niall just snickers.

“Jesus, Lou,” Liam is braver, saying it louder and Louis just smacks his hand down on his shoulder, hard. “Don’t let the post get to your head, yeah?”

“Nick, what news have you got?” Louis says.

“Train is to arrive in a few minutes time,” he says, and Louis makes this excited noise, probably cannot wait to corrupt the minds of the thousands of students under his care.

“Deputy Headmaster?” he says, looking to Niall, who’s ready with his hair back to his usual dark brown, eyes back to sparking blue, and Harry thinks he looks amazing any which way.

“Of course,” Niall says, professorial mode and he nods his head to them in goodbye, and he leaves to prepare to greet the first years. 

“So, still in love with him, then?” Zayn says as soon as Niall is out of sight, and Harry squeaks, makes several indistinguishable noises and hand gestures as he tries to come up with excuses, but eventually.

“I wish he wasn’t so perfect,” he says, hiding his face in his hands and still able to slap away Louis’ hands when he tries to prod at his swallows and twist his nipples. 

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Liam asks. “Been nine years since you’ve left this place, figured you would have made a move by now.”

“He’s amazing, he can have anyone he wants,” Harry murmurs, and Louis and Zayn snort. He looks at them reproachfully, but they refuse to look remorseful.

“You two are daft,” Louis mutters, swishing his robe around as he makes to exit. “Two of the most intelligent people I know, but such stupid twats.”

“Come on, then,” Liam says, and they make their way to the Great Hall, and it’s as amazing as he remembers. He helps with the preparations, charming the candles and lighting them up in the air, illuminating the room in that ever familiar glow, warm and comforting. It seems a bit smaller now, now that he’s grown and not quite the eleven year old that had first stepped into the castle grounds, wondering how everything could be so grand and full of magic. 

He sits next to Liam, and leave an empty chair on his other side for Niall, and Louis is already partaking in a raspberry and brown butter tart as the students begin to file in, all robed in black and the gravity of it all dawns upon him. He’s going to be teaching all of them, all different year levels. All different levels of magic, and so many exams to plan and lessons and readings to have to arrange. He’d had to buy all the textbooks as well for magic he already knows.

“Ay, look over our dominion,” Louis leans over to whisper to them, holding his hand out to the nearly full hall.

“Lou,” Liam says disapprovingly, but he just chortles, taking in another tart. “He’s going to be a handful. I hope Niall’s ready to handle that.”

“Isn’t he doing enough?” Harry says, watching the students below. Niall already had several jobs in the school: Defense teacher, flying teacher, Quidditch referee. It was plenty enough to have to deal with. “Couldn’t have Louis chosen someone else?”

“It was either me, Zayn or him,” Liam tells him. “Zayn spent his summer travelling and finding new ingredients to experiment with, and I’d been working around the castle’s magic to get the internet working for the past few years. The choice was easy. Plus, I think he was real amused by the idea of being the boss to someone as accomplished as Niall. Niall found it pretty funny, as well.”

“That’s cruel,” he mutters.

“No, that’s clever,” Louis adds in, winking at him as he turns his attention back to the hall.

The grand double doors open, and Niall leads the two lines of tiny robed students, and Harry can’t quite believe that at one point, he’d been that small. 

Niall looks up to the teachers’ table, found Harry’s eyes, and his hair flashes a bright pink once again as he smiles at him, and Harry wants to melt. 

He then presents the Sorting Hat, and as it sings, he can’t quite stop watching Niall, who in turn just watches the Hat sing its annual song of welcome and introduction. It occurs to him that he is more than a bit pathetic. 

“Alright,” Niall smiles to the hall in general, and many, many students, most, if not all, sigh dreamily as they watch him. “When I call your name, please sit on the stool and put the hat on to be sorted. Don’t worry, it’s painless.”

“What is it with them?” Harry murmurs, and Zayn snorts from Louis’ other side.

“Everyone loves the Niallator,” he says, and the girls in front watch with rapt attention as Niall unfurls the scroll off names and reads the first name out loud. “Seem to think like you.”

Harry swallows, and Liam just tuts from his other side. “Don’t worry, you’ve got no real competition here. Niall’s just really popular. Really nice to everyone and Charms is everyone’s favorite class because he’s the best teacher.”

“Suspect that D.A.D.A. might change that,” Harry swallows again, and Louis just chuckles.

“That, and maybe it’s because he's a Metamorphmagus. And that quarter bit of Veela blood in him doesn't hurt,” Louis adds, and Harry makes a dying noise in his throat, having completely forgotten about that fact. Niall was amazing as is, but when everyone wants to impress you because of your genes, well. Harry just wants to get through the year, nevermind impressing the most impressive person in the room.

Last name’s been called, and Niall takes away the stool and Sorting Hat with a cheery smile to the people in front, who give no shits about hiding their sighs, and he takes his seat up in the faculty table, smiling at Harry and glowing again and all Harry can do is smile back wobbily. 

“Right,” Louis grunts, gets off his seat and stands at the podium, the owl ornamentation in front spreading its wings as he clears his throat to address the school. “Welcome! I’m your new Headmaster, Professor Tomlinson, and I’m delighted to usher in a new year with all of you!”

The students clap, and many from the table of scarlet and gold hoot and cheer deeply as they pound their fists on the wooden surface of the table,  _ “TOMMO, TOMMO, TOMMO.” _

“Jesus,” Liam mutters, and Harry cannot believe. Niall’s laughing, and they begin cheering for him as well,  _ “NIALL, NIALL, NIALL-” _

“Yes, thank you, thank you,” Louis calms them down, though very, very half-heartedly. Harry thinks he might just die here. Should have known never to trust Louis. “So, just a few introductions before the glorious meal.

“As many of you know, our beloved, glorious specimen of a man, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Wood,” he pauses, allows himself and many of the students to sigh, “has retired, and returned to his first love of Quidditch and soon will be heard commentating, voraciously I'm sure, on the IQA, look out for it on the radio. But, in his place, I am very honored and delighted to be announcing that our newly appointed Deputy Headmaster, Head of Gryffindor House and flying teacher, Professor Niall James Horan, has offered to take the post.”

Niall smiles bashful lay to the ear splitting cheers he receives, waving his hand once and a great number of the students begin chanting his name again. 

“Yes, yes, perfection,” Louis says, clapping out the last of the cheers. “But, this also means that we now have a new Charms teacher. Please give a very warm Hogwarts welcome to a beloved alumni, Professor Harry Edward Styles.”

Harry is very much surprised at the amount of cheering for him, loud and much more than he'd been expecting, and he sees many of the students, many of them female, craning their heads to get a good look at him. 

“See? Charmed, knew it'd be perfect for you,” Niall says into his ear, and Harry fights to not let his skin turn pink, but allows for the steady increase in his heart rate.

“Right, now, few words of advice!” Louis says once the clapping dies down. “Avoid the girls’ bathroom on the first floor, Moaning Myrtle won't take too kindly being peed on. Avoid the Forbidden Forest, and don't fall in love with any of your professors! Hard to do, look at these faces,” he gestures to the table at large, then at himself with a really very inappropriate wink, “But! It mustn't be done. Alright! Been waiting all summer for this, bring out the food!”

And thus the food appears magically on the tables, and Harry did miss the food here, though he's not quite in favor of the labor who makes it. But, at least here, the elves are treated miles better than anywhere else. 

“Here, this is your favorite, right?” Niall offers him a plate of corn, and flicks his finger and the kernels shred away magically from the cob and find their way neatly piled on Harry’s plate, and Harry’s in love.

“Yeah, thank you,” he says, and offer Niall the plate of roasted spicy chicken, and he receives a glowing smile in return, makes him feel utterly fulfilled.

“I'm very happy you're here,” Niall tells him as they begin to eat, and Harry feels like dying twenty times over, possibly more. He really should get a grip on himself. “I left my post in Charms because I knew it was your strongest subject.”

“You shouldn't have,” he says. “Best at it, maybe only Flitwick could have rivaled you.”

“No, he's legend,” Niall says, shaking his head bashfully. “But I hope it treats you well. I had a great time with it, as I'm sure you will too.”

“Well, I'm really sure that you'll do just as amazing for your next class,” Harry tells him, and Niall just shrugs a bit. “Always were very good at all the subjects, and at the sports. And the Head Boy-ing-”

“Alright, now,” Niall laughs, blushing to his ears, brushing off the compliments, and Harry wonders if he ought to tell him that everyone called him  _ ‘The ISH’  _ back then.  _ ‘Ideal Student of Hogwarts,’  _ but he figures that Niall might just blush even more. Obviously.

“Thank you,” Harry says quietly, just for him, and he really is grateful for the opportunity. 

Niall glows brighter, his hair turning a rosy blush and he smiles softly for him, and Harry is so gone for him, doesn't think that will change ever.

.

First weeks of teaching aren’t quite so bad. Harry finds himself enjoying it, actually, and as much work it is to be teaching seven different levels of magic and checking the charmwork of each and every one and reading homework essays he’d assigned, finding that the younger students have infinitely better grammar than many of the older ones who’ve stopped caring about syntax and just wanted to pass something for the sake of passing something, it is very much fulfilling. He’d have thought all that occupied time will leave no space in his mind to think about Niall, but. Having their meals together and being generally so kind of lovely all the time don’t quite allow for that luxury.

He’s in the midst of instructing one of his first year classes on the proper enunciation of  _ ‘Wingardium Leviosa,’  _ swishing and flicking his wand in demonstration as he shows them the way his feather floats up, when someone knocks on the door.

“Professor Styles?” it’s an older student, from his fourth year class, and she’s trying valiantly to hide her rolling eyes and general distaste for being used as a messenger, “I have a message for you, from the Headmaster.”

Harry blinks, but he nods in understanding, straightening up and telling his class to go on ahead and practice on their feathers, and he walks over to the door, “Yes, Miss Weasley?”

“Headmaster Tomlinson seeks to relay a message,” she begins off the top of her head, as if Louis had forced her to memorize it word per word, which Harry doesn’t doubt that he actually did. “That is, come this Thursday, when flying lessons begin for the first years, he wishes for you to be present to assist Professor Horan, no excuses.”

Harry blinks rapidly, the words sinking in, and he says, “What? Miss Weasley, I don’t think-”

“Please, Professor, I’d already been pulled out of my free period for this,” she says, glaring at him, “I was studying for my Ancient Runes test for next week, talk to the Headmaster yourself.”

Before Harry can say anything else, she leaves, her wild fire-hued curls bouncing as she walks away, and Harry is left staring blankly after her. Then, he jumps when a small explosion booms inside the room, and he runs back in, “Mr. Finnigan, not again-”

After class, he runs to his office, and throws some Floo powder into the fire, and sticks his head in. 

“Louis!” he yells, and coming into view is the Headmaster’s office, and Louis is just out of view, having a chat with Dumbledore’s portrait.

“Ay! Harry! Rose sent you my message, then?” he tilts his head when he sees Harry there, and Harry wants to throttle him.

“You twat, you know I can’t fly!”

“Ah, it’ll be alright, Niall won’t let you fall or anything like that,” Louis says, and Dumbledore makes a comment Harry can’t quite hear, and Louis laughs. “And I’m just trying to help you along! Almost been here a month and you’ve not done anything but make moony eyes at him and trip over yourself whenever he’s around.”

“Louis,  _ I  _ will do it in my own time, should I choose to do so!” he says, and he’s got no time for this, he’s got a class of third years coming in to practice Cheering Charms any minute and he’s got absolutely no time to be played around with.

“I fear we all might die and be roaming these halls as ghosts before that happens,” Louis says, all dramatic flair. “Which reminds me - can ghosts shag? Like, would they pass each other because they’re transparent, or can they like, ‘touch?’”

The other headmasters groan, and Harry faintly hears a yell of,  _ “Minerva, why did you choose this idiot?!”  _ and he’s pretty sure it’s Snape who says,  _ “Had I been alive when you entered this school, I’d have made sure you didn’t make it past the first week.” _

“Louis, I swear,” he says, hushed as he hears his class filtering into the classroom.

“It’ll be fun!” he says, grins as he waves goodbye, and Harry huffs at him, and tucks his head back out of the fire, straightens himself up for the lesson. Figures he could do with a good Cheering Charm himself.

.

“Right!” Niall says, and his hair is a silver today, eyes are sharp yellow, in honor of the legendary Madam Hooch, and as good as he looks today, Harry still wants to kill Louis. “Welcome to your first flying lesson! You all might know me by now as Professor Horan, your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but today, I’ll be your flying instructor. Assisting me today is your Charms professor, Professor Styles.”

Everyone greets Harry in turn, and he merely waves and smiles sheepishly, but he really wishes to be anywhere else rather than here.

Niall goes through the rounds with them, not leaving any student unattended to, and Harry just watches by the side, awed and impressed at how good Niall is with each of them. He figured early on that he’d be useless today, but Niall doesn’t seem to mind to take over totally, teaching them to command their brooms to go up into their grasp, mounting the broomstick and kicking off the ground and hovering a few inches off the ground for a few moments. All things HArry remembers, and vividly recalls that he was horrible at.

Niall gets them far enough that they all take a lap around the circle boundary he’d made in the middle of the field, and of course, it’s towards the end of the lesson when something happens. It’s not even Harry’s fault. One of the Scamander twins was up in the air, lost control and was screaming for his life, and Harry had tried to calm the broom down enough to get him down to the ground safely, but he didn’t quite prepare himself for the very hard kick to his nose.

“Harry!” Niall exclaims, and the other students shriek, not quite loud enough to mask the sound of his nose getting broken. Harry keels over, holding his face as the blood runs down, and he thinks darkly about how he will definitely kill Louis for this. 

Niall runs over to him, and holds his face in his hands, eyes turning back to his natural blue, and he asks him, “Are you alright?”

“My nose is broken, Niall, what do you think?” he says sarcastically, and Niall laughs, helps him get rid of most of the blood on his face, patting his cheeks affectionately.

“Sorry, sir,” the twin says meekly, Harry thinks it might be Lysander, but he’s more concerned with the state of his nose than to identify which one it really is. “I didn’t mean to. My mother taught me how to fix a broken toe, maybe it might be of some use-”

“No, no, it’s quite alright,” he says quickly. “It’s fine, Mr. Scamander. Just be careful next time.”

“Alright, then, class is dismissed,” Niall calls out to the first years. “Good work today, I’ll be seeing you next week - yes, there is more than one of these, Mr. Finnigan. Alright, then, to the hospital wing with you-”

“Niall, no, you’ve got a class,” Harry mutters, but Niall tuts at him and holds him round the waist, walks them out of the field.

“Oh, dear,” Madam Pomfrey sighs as soon as they enter the wing, and she directs them to a bed as she prepares the medication. “Professor Styles, I spend more than half my time here attending to  _ just you, _ I was hoping this wouldn’t become a habit.”

“It’s actually not my fault this time,” he mutters, and she’s magically siphoning the last of the blood from his face.

“Really wasn’t,” Niall says. He smiles, then comes forward to kiss her on the cheek, “Poppy.”

“Niall, always a pleasure,” she says, smiling warmly at him, and Harry sighs internally.  _ Of course.  _ “What happened, then?”

“Lorcan Scamander,” Niall tells her by way of explanation, and she makes a sound of understanding, tutting. “He’s a good kid, though.”

“Clumsy and accident-prone foremost,” she says, shaking her head, and she swiftly points her wand at Harry’s nose and a second later, Harry yells as his nose snaps back into place instantly. “Right, then. How does it feel?”

“Uh, normal,” he says, tries breathing through and it feels fine, almost better than before. 

“Looks exceptionally princely,” Niall remarks, smiling at him, and Harry wants to melt into the ground with the memory. “Amazing job, love.”

“Well, I do my best,” she says, getting rid of the last of whatever’s left on his face, and she puts her wand away, says, “Wait here, then, I’ll just grab something for the residual pain.”

She walks off, and Niall sits next to him on the bed, facing him as he brushes away his hair. “Quite a day,” he says, smiling. “Are you okay?”

“I mean, I'm good, like, physically,” Harry tells him, tapping at his nose gently. “But, like, my ego and everything's pretty bruised.”

“Not anything to be ashamed of,” Niall tells him, brushing his tip of his finger on the bridge of his nose. Harry bites his lip, shivering a bit and hoping it doesn't turn out so obvious. “Could have done without bones being broken.”

“I’m going to kill Louis,” he mutters, and Niall snorts. 

“So, this is his doing, then?” Niall says, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm, that explains it.”

“Sorry for messing up your class,” he says, and Niall blinks, before smiling warmly at him. 

“Didn't mess up anything,” he tells him. “Loved having you around.”

Harry blushes, and he watches Niall's hair turn pink again. Must be his favorite color. 

“You've got to go,” he sighs, hearing the clock tower chime. “You’ve got a class to teach.”

“You sure you’re alright?” Niall asks him, only getting up when Harry nods at him, smiling sheepishly. “Alright, then. Glad you’re okay,” he says, before bending down to kiss his forehead lightly, and Harry freezes at the brief touch. Niall stands again, smiling kindly, then he walks off to Hogwarts Turis Magnus for his lesson.

“Good lord, Mr. Styles,” Madam Pomfrey comes back in, shaking her head at him and handing him a small shot glass of medicine. “Until now?”

“You knew?!” Harry’s eyes widen, and she just stares at him, pushing the shot into his hand. 

“Known since that time you smashed your nose when you tripped over your shoes right after you’d been sorted,” she says, standing over him like a hawk until he gulps down the pumpkin-flavored syrup. “Couldn’t stop blushing when Mr. Horan wouldn’t stop fussing over you.”

Harry remembers the day well, and he blushes again now, thinking about how Niall wouldn’t stop apologizing, thinking it was his fault Harry had fallen from the steps because Niall had smiled at him from the table, his hair turning golden.

“Been more than fifteen years to that day,” she says, taking the glass back and putting a bandage on his nose, completely unneeded, but just until he’d gotten used to it again. “Still not made any advances, then?”

“In my own time, Madam Pomfrey,” he says, gingerly touching his nose again as he stands. “Thank you.”

“Just try not to end up back here again, doing it,” she tells him, and he has no doubt that she means it.

.

“So!” Louis says first thing next day, plopping down on his chair in the Great Hall. “How’d it go?”

Harry glares at him, and Zayn snorts into his cereal.

“Oh, Harry!” Liam comes in then, robes and suit and all, and he starts stacking up the pancakes and bacon on his plate. “I - Shit, what happened to your nose?”

“Louis,” he says darkly in explanation, and Louis just chortles into his eggs. “It’s not funny, I broke my nose!”

“I expected nothing less,” he says, almost proud of himself, and his goblet magically fills with pumpkin juice. He then looks at Liam, who’s giving him an unimpressed look mirroring Harry’s, and he says, “What? Pomfrey fixed him up in no time, like she always does!”

“Christ, Louis,” he says, shaking his head, and they go off and begin arguing like they always do. Zayn and Harry just go on and continue eating, used to the somewhat regular occurrence. 

“Not a very nice thing for you to do, Tommo,” Niall comes in then, jeans and trainers and a nice blue shirt to match his eyes, thick black frames perched on his nose. “Your nose alright, then, Haz?”

“Ye-Yes, it’s fine,” Harry says, refuses to turn blush, but he smiles at Niall, who’s hair in turn changes from dark brown to the same pink shade it’s been changing into as of late.

“That was a really shit thing to do, Lou,” Liam says, “How many times have you broken your nose now, Haz? Eight, is it? Oh, hold on. No, I think it’s-”

“It’s fine, Liam, my nose is fine,” he says quickly, clearing his throat and taking a long sip from his juice. Louis doesn’t hide his laugh, cackles loud enough that several students glance up at their table, and the other teachers are shaking their heads, some fondly, others not so much. 

“He could have gotten seriously hurt though, Lou,” Zayn says, pouring out a glass of juice for Niall. “Stop trying to meddle.”

“Meddle?” Niall says, partaking of the elves’ amazing breakfast set-up, assembling a fry-up for himself. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing!” Harry says loudly, glaring at them all. “They’re just being twats.”

“Harry and being off the ground don’t particularly go together very well,” Louis says. “Was just trying to help. You teach people how to levitate shit for a living now, how is flying so hard for you?”

“It just is!” he says, voice gone shrill and the students look up at the table curiously. “And I wasn’t even flying when it happened. I was kicked.”

“Oh, sick, who was it?” he asks, looking all too pleased and Zayn smacks the back of his head, and Niall snorts into his juice.

“You’re supposed to be Headmaster, act like it,” he says, not looking the least bit apologetic, and then Louis  _ has  _ to pick a fight with him, so they argue and bitch at each other for the rest of the meal. 

It’s when breakfast is over and part ways to go to their respective first lessons that Zayn walks alongside Harry, says, “I think it might be easier to make a move, now.”

“What?” he says, confused, but he doesn’t elaborate. Just smirks, at him, before he goes off to the dungeons.

.

The rest of his morning goes by normally. Some type of explosion happens with his first years, courtesy of Mr. Finnigan as is usual. The fourth years, except maybe Rose Weasley, don’t pay attention to the lesson and choose to just watch him move, which is disturbing, but not unflattering. Fifth and sixth years are the braver types, actually trying to hand him little notes and he burns them all up out of view, won’t make the same mistake of opening one up again. 

He’s walking the corridor, explaining the procedure to a Homonculous Charm to James in preparation for his N.E.W.T., when he hears the sounds coming from the courtyard below. He walks over, following the noise, and James squawks and scrambles after him. 

Niall’s brought his second years out, and he sees them running about, laughing and trying to point their wands at the ground to try and catch something.

“Imps,” James supplies for him, and true enough, he can just about see the tiny pixie-like creatures, running about and trying to shove the students down, but they’re not quite quick enough, Niall always ready to fire a Knockback Jinx at them before they hurt any of the students. “Looks fun. Wood never taught it like that.”

Harry knows, recalls his own unpleasant experience with the little underestimated monsters, and the students are all clapping by the end of the lesson, all coming round to bury Niall in a hug. He laughs, glowing faintly, and as if he could sense his presence, he looks up, sees Harry, and grins, shining brighter and his hair turns pink again and he’s waving up at him. 

“You fancy him, then, Professor?” James then asks him, and Harry squeaks, and he dies inside, wondering why he’s so obvious. “Wouldn’t be a bad thing, loads of us are rooting for the two of you-”

“Alright, Mr. Potter,” he says frantically, flicking his wand discretely and instantly there are invisible winds cooling his face. “I think you’ve been doing the charm wrong. You can’t just say the incantation-”

.

“Well?” Zayn’s slipping into the seat next to him at lunch, and he’s got this sly sort of grin that suits his face too much. “Anything interesting happen this morning?”

“What are you on about, Zayn?” he says, book turning its own page for him as he spears some kale on his fork.

“Come on, Haz,” he says, and Harry just gets even more confused. 

“Stop bothering him, Z,” Niall says, prodding him until he gets out of his seat. He smiles warmly at Harry as he sits down, and begins to pile his plate with food, glancing at the book briefly before doing a double-take.

_ “‘Magical Me’  _ \- Harry, you can’t be serious,” he shakes his head, but he smiles all the same. “Why do you even have that, Lockhart’s a fraud.”

“Handsome fraud,” he mutters, but Niall just gives him this soft smile, endeared and fond and it's honestly beautiful. “So, um. How was your morning? I saw you outside with the imps, that must have been fun.”

Niall gives him this excited grin, and he starts rambling on about the lessons he’d planned and how he’s planning to have joint classes with Hagrid, just to make it more fun. 

He leaves a bit early, still has to set up the classroom for his third years, and Harry smiles, watches him leave, and Zayn blinks, looks at Niall’s retreating back and Harry.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Zayn says slowly. “He’s not been affected.”

“What?” Harry turns to look at him, and he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Listen, Haz,” he slips back into the chair Niall’s just vacated, “Don’t be mad. I spiked his juice with a love potion this morning-”

“What?!” he screeches, and several of the remaining students still having lunch jump in their seats. “Zayn! What -  _ Why  _ did you think that was a good idea?”

“I just wanted to help you along.”

_ “You’re _ meddling, you hypocrite!” he half-yells, and his book is going haywire. “You had no right!”

“I was just trying to help!” Zayn says. “I don't know why it's not working yet, might be a delayed reaction of a sort-”

_ “‘Delayed reaction?!  _ Zayn, this is completely not okay,” he says heatedly. “Going behind my back, not to mention that you've basically  _ drugged Niall-” _

“It won't do him any harm,” he says, but Harry glares at him, gathers his things and leaves, thankful that he's got a reason to be angry. Otherwise, he'd just be panicking over the fact that Niall would be making involuntary advances on him as they day passes.

He doesn't know how how ‘delayed’ the reaction to this love potion should be, but nothing really happens. Niall doesn’t really seek him out more than usual, other than what’s usual. They find each other as their lessons end for the day, walk together to the Great Hall for some supper, and chat along the way. They don't even talk about anything particularly telling. Niall mentions that Rose Weasley’s Reductor Curse was so strong that the mannequin evaporated, and they just go off from there. 

Niall smiles at him the same way, laughs the same way, glows the same way he always does and his hair is that same rose blush pink, and Harry doesn’t quite know if it makes feel any better, or any worse, that he’s not acting as if he’d been affected.

“Harry?”

He blinks, brought back to earth and Niall is looking at him, slightly concerned look on his face. “Sorry?”

“Was just telling you that this treacle tart’s got nothing on yours,” he says, and he blinks at him, confused. “Harry, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, smiles and shakes off the nerves, and he even beams when Niall offers him a forkful of tart to try.

The good feeling of being with Niall disappears very quickly, and it’s not many hours later when he’s cornering Zayn by the dungeons as the night winds down, and he blames his stomach full of treacle and the bit of wine then the bit of mead he’d had when he says in his hardest tone, “You’re just making fun of me now.”

“Wha - Harry?” Zayn’s eyes widen.

“You’re making fun of me,” he repeats, and he sniffles a bit because being made fun of is never fun. “You think this is hilarious, don’t you?”

“No, I’m just confused,” he says slowly.

“You  _ ‘spiked’  _ Niall’s juice with a love potion, you said,” he says, “Told me you slipped something in there, to  _ ‘help me along.’ _ Well, that’s funny, isn’t it? Making fun and using my love for the most amazing person ever just to entertain yourself.”

“Wha-”

“You never spiked anything,” he says, angered. Would never attempt this kind of tone with Zayn when completely sober. “Only told me you did so I could get my hopes up and Niall would do something, but he didn’t! Nothing, all day. So, I hope you’ve had your fun!”

“Wait, Harry, I really did put in a potion,” he says quickly, but Harry glares at him.

“Good night, Professor Malik,” he says curtly, and he’s off, leaving Zayn to gape after him.

.

First Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, and sun’s shining and clouds are gone and weather is generally perfect for a game. 

Niall’s a blur in the sky, faster and quicker than any of the players, and Harry watches him like a hawk from the faculty’s stand, reminds him of the time when Niall had been playing for his House for seven years, the first-year rule just having been abolished then, star Chaser and expert flyer, and Harry had always cheered for Gryffindor, even when they were against his own House. Watches him carefully, on the edge of his seat and worry in the back of his mind, can’t quite forget the incident in Niall’s fifth year that had blown out his knee, and as much as Madam Pomfrey and the doctors in St. Mungo’s had tried, it never really returned to the way it was. Didn’t stop him, of course, but still.

“Shit,” Zayn’s making his way to the front row of the stands now, several minutes late for the match. “Hate these things. Can’t be bothered to go to these games.”

“You really are the most awful Head of House,” Liam says from the row behind, then cheers as James Potter had saved another goal. 

Harry resolutely does not look at him, gives every ounce of his focus to Niall, and shifts in his seat when Zayn sits right next to him. Still pays no mind when he clears his throat, and prods at his shoulder.

“Come on, Harry,” he says, exasperated. “Not still mad, are you? Been almost a week-”

“I will continue to be angry for as long as I wish,” he huffs, clapping as Gryffindor scores. “You’re a real twat, for taking advantage of my feelings to have a bit of fun.”

“Christ, Harry,” he says. “I really did put a potion in his drink. You can ask Louis, he was in on it.”

“You shits,” he says, shaking his head, and his face feels hot.

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry, but I swear, I didn’t do it to have a laugh,” he says, and they both flinch when Louis yells from the top row, much too loud as the Chasers dressed in red make three goals successively, and Liam can be heard, muttering,  _ “Louis, you’re supposed to not take sides-” _

“You all are shits,” he says, repeating the thought and he’s tired. “How can I believe you?”

“Mixed a spoonful of Veritaserum in with my brew today, just for you,” he says simply. Proves it further, “I hate most of my students, I think Professor Longbottom is quite fit, I want to yank that skunk of a haircut out of Louis’ head. And I definitely kind of spiked Niall’s drink, and it was a good batch too, I don’t know why it didn’t work.”

Harry concedes, sighing as he resigns himself to the fact that Zayn is actually telling him the truth, and he doesn’t know whether the thought should comfort him or not. 

“We only thought it might help,” Zayn tells him, noise almost drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. “It’s been so long, and it was sweet, then. Now it’s just kind of sad to watch.”

“If I could make a move, I would,” he says, “and I hope to do so. Maybe, maybe just not right now.”

“Been saying that for fifteen years, nothing’s happened,” Zayn snorts. “I think you should just do it, Harry. You’d be surprised.”

“You’re still shits, every one of you. Except for maybe Liam,” he says, and Zayn pauses, before he makes a noise of agreement, and they both get butterbeer thrown at them from Louis’ goblet when Gryffindor wins the game just a moment later.

.

Months pass, and things stay generally the same. Niall spends Halloween with orange hair and cat ears, and Harry puts on his pumpkin-patterned shirt, unbuttoned down to his stomach, while Louis hides several traps in the halls and classrooms. November isn't much different, though Niall's hair is now mostly platinum white, occasionally the favorite pink every now and then, eyes amber and golden, and Harry brings out the snowflake patterns. Harry's still very much in love with him, and sometimes, he thinks he has the courage to do something about it. Then. Niall will look at him and smile and he just loses all of that. 

December, things get slightly interesting. 

“Morning, Harry,” Niall greets him a few weeks before the holiday break. He's grinning, looking exactly like Jack Frost, blue sweatshirt and bright blue eyes and sick stick and all, even fashioned a tiny cute baby tooth fairy to go alongside him. He's holding a cauldron by the handle, says, “Secret Santas!”

“Oh, no,” he mutters, staring at him with apprehension. “I’m always awful at these.”

“Please, you always give the best gifts,” Niall says, holds out the cauldron, and Harry sighs, pulling out a folded up scrap of parchment. “Good luck!”

“You too,” he says, watches him glide away, literally magicking a slide of ice that disappears into thin air once he’s left the room. He watches most of the students, unsurprisingly not all of them female, sigh and wave cloyingly as he floats by them, sending an easy grin to them all.

“Didn’t think your eyes could get any greener there, Harry,” Liam says, and Harry pouts at him. “He’s perfect, I don’t blame them.”

“You do this every year, then?” he asks instead, and he sees that Liam’s not making any show to hide that he’d gotten Harry himself for his gift exchange. When Harry cocks an eyebrow at him, he just shrugs.

“Now you know not to expect too much,” he says, smacking his lips after sipping from his mug of hot chocolate. “They’ve been doing Secret Santas since Louis became Deputy Headmaster to McGonagall. Was his idea, and he’d demanded that it continue.”

“Of course he did,” he snorts, then he unfurls the bit of parchment he’d pulled out, and his heart stops when he sees Niall’s name scrawled on it. “Oh, shit.”

Liam laughs when he peeks at the name, and says as he stands to go to his first lesson of the day, “Can’t wait for the Christmas party.”

And of course Harry starts to panic, thinking about everything. What to get for him, how many gifts exactly is appropriate, or should he do one big gift, or maybe several little ones, or-

“Professor?”

He snaps out of his spiral, and looks down to see one of his second year students down at the foot of the table.

“Sorry, Miss Potter,” he coughs, “What is it?”

“Headmaster Tomlinson told me to tell you to please meet him up in his office at your earliest convenience,” Lily tells him, gripping her books. “Um, I don’t know what it means, but he also told me to tell you that he’s, um, ‘Team Iron Man?’”

He sighs, tells her, “yes, it’s alright. I understand. Thank you, Miss Potter, go off to your lesson now.”

So, after two periods, he walks off to the Headmaster’s Tower where Louis’ office is, and he says the password in a bored tone, “Team Iron Man.”

“And does he know it,” the griffin statue says to him, a similar weary color to his voice, and he waits for Harry to stand on one of the steps before he spins up to the office proper, where Louis is having a cuppa with Professor Dumbledore’s portrait. 

“Ah! Haz, thank you for coming,” he says, grins as he stands to give him a cup as well. “Jammie Dodger?”

“How’d you get these here?” he says, accepting the biscuit, “Been wondering how to get Muggle food into the grounds.”

“Elves got stocks of them down in the kitchens just for me,” he winks, and Harry wants to spit it out, but it tastes too good. “Ay, don’t be like that, Harry! They get all holidays free now if they want, but I’m still working on them to accept payment, they always cry whenever I mention it-”

“Nevermind, Lou.”

He takes the seat opposite Louis, takes another piece, and it’s while they’re settling down when Louis asks him the worst possible first question. “So! Have you and Irish shagged yet?”

He drops his Jammie Dodger into his tea, and the majority of the portraits gasp around them, make noises of outrage and several,  _ “I never!”s.  _ Dumbledore, odd man out, chuckles into his tea, and goes on about his knitting. 

“Louis, Christ’s sake,” he mutters, hands trembling so much he has to magic his cup down to its saucer. “Why've you got no sense of delicacy, or decency?”

“Ay, life's too short to be boring,” he waves his hand, adds on, “So? Has my assistance been of any help?”

“You're a menace,” he says, wants to curse at him but there are several presently not living but very judgemental Headmasters of past watching and are very much in on the conversation. 

“I know that, but have you shagged?”

“No! No, we haven't,” he says frantically, gets the words out as quickly as possible, and despite their groans of disgust, he hears several of the portraits let out noises of sympathy and disappointment.

“Shame, he is a handsome one,” Armando Dippet says, and one of the Headmistresses that Harry doesn't recognize makes a small noise of agreement.

“Oh, won't be long now,” Dumbledore says, then he’s back to murmuring his count on his knitting.

“Oh!” Louis’ eyes widen, and he shoves his chair closer to his portrait. “Really? Dumbledore’s never wrong, Harry, you'll see!”

“On the contrary, I have been mistaken many times, Mr. Tomlinson,” he remarks, and Harry is so ready to get out of here. 

“But! You think those two will get it on?”

“Mr. Tomlinson, there is no need for such vulgarity!”

“Been hanging here this handful of years, never quite saw such a pure, shared affection,” Dumbledore says seriously, and Harry pipes up then, blushing and skin overheated. 

“Alright! Okay, alright, thank you for the tea, Lou,” he says loudly, making to leave. 

“Aww, Harry, you just got here! Dumbledore, go on, tell him-”

“No, I’m quite satisfied, thank you,” he runs out the door, not fast enough to miss Louis’ resounding cackle. 

.

“Harry!”

He turns, smiles automatically when he sees Niall with his silver dust platinum hair and pale glowing skin walk up next to him, students running about the corridors to get to the Great Hall for upper surrounding them. 

“Had a good day, then?” he asks, and Niall grins at him, looking every bit the magical creature that he is.

Harry was just telling him about his first years’ incredibly quick progress as they've begun multiplying and simple color changes when a few girls walk past them, giggling to each other as they look at them. 

Niall just smiles back, and Harry does the same, though not easily. Wonders just how many people he has to watch fall in love with Niall, or throw him looks of want.

It happens several more times as they walk through the corridor, and Harry begins getting suspicious when some of the male students pump their fists at them, or when others beam at them and say,  _ “Do it!”  _ or when some others still sigh dreamily at them. 

He assumes at first it's because they're both fit, whatever, but then Rose Weasley is walking up to them, rolling her eyes as she does, and she says rather plainly, “Professor Horan, Professor Styles. Do you know you’ve been walking around with mistletoe hovering over your heads?”

They both freeze, and slowly look up, and sure enough, a few sprigs of mistletoe hangs above them, suspended in midair.

Harry turns red, looks back down and sees her raising an eyebrow at him, and he gulps. Niall doesn’t make a noise, and Harry’s not quite sure on how he’s reacting to it, can’t ring himself to look at him, but only a second later, he hears him ask, rather nonchalantly, “Know who did this, then, Miss Weasley?”

“Everyone,” she rolls her eyes again. “If you’d only paid attention. But Malfoy started it.”

Harry turns even redder, and his neck feels hot and his face is on fire and Niall chuckles next to him, tells her, “Tell him to meet me for his detention, we’ll plan from there.”

She perks up slightly at that, and she nods, walking away, and then it’s just Harry and Niall and the rest of the studentry watching them. Niall waves his wand above them, presumably to get rid of the sprigs, but Harry assumes him to be unsuccessful, as he sighs and hides his wand away.

“Bewitched, won’t just disappear,” he remarks, and Harry squeaks pathetically, knows what’s coming but still completely doesn’t expect the soft kiss to his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, and he hears the soft whirl above them that tells him the mistletoe’s gone.

“Sorry,” Niall says softly, and Harry looks at him, sees that his cheeks have gone rosy and his hair to match. “Maybe I should have asked-”

“Um, no, it’s alright,” he says quietly, and Niall smiles at him, just for him.

“Hope they’ve got them spicy hot chocolates tonight,” Niall says a moment later, eyes scrunched up as he grins at him, then he goes on ahead. Harry’s chest gets tight and his head light, touching the spot where he’d been kissed, only for a few students to cheer for him just seconds later,  _ “Get in, Professor!” _

Liam tells him just as he’s entering the Great Hall that there were little lovebirds flying above his head, and he makes a mental note to add to Scorpius Malfoy’s detention. 

.

The mistletoe doesn’t really stop, in the weeks following. More and more students bewitch the decorations to hang above them whenever they happen to be in the same area, within proximity, which Harry realizes has become more often than he really wants to admit he likes. Discovers that the other teachers had caught on, and instead of stopping it, they had joined in on the trick. He’d caught Louis bewitching the twelve foot Christmas tree stocked full of mistletoe to follow them, though Louis hadn’t looked like he was trying to hide his intentions.

It becomes really irritating, very quickly. It’s not like he doesn’t want to kiss or be kissed by Niall, but he really would prefer to do it when not everyone was watching for him to do it. 

“Ay, Harry,” Zayn says one afternoon, a few days before the winter break, “You know what you’re getting your boy for Christmas?”

“I’ve, um, I have an idea, but it might be a bit much,” he replies, eyes trained on Niall, who’d just come into the Great Hall, walking alongside Professor Pinnock. He spots a few students conjure up mistletoe to hang above them and when they realize, they laugh, and Niall kisses her cheek sweetly. His heart plummets the same time he sees red.

“Oi, Haz,” Louis plops down in his seat, grabs at a muffin from the tray, “don’t you be getting jealous of Leigh-Anne, now. He’s just being friendly.”

“I’m not jealous,” he mutters, watching them part for their separate seats on the table, laughing. “Not jealous.”

“Christ, Harry,” Liam says, shaking his head. “Could you be more obvious.”

“I bet Niall would find it endearing,” Zayn says, and Harry flicks his wand beneath the table, and  _ suddenly,  _ absolutely cannot be explained, Harry wonders how it happened, Zayn’s drink splashes all over his face as he takes a sip from his cup.

Before he can fully realize it, the last banquet of the school before the holidays begin is finished, and the staff caps off the year with its own separate party, a few days before Christmas. Louis and Niall had gone all out on decorations, everything decked out in evergreen leaves and holly and gold and silver and he feels like he’d stepped out of the castle, out in a pleasant wood, warm and cozy and bright with a roaring fire. There are birds in the trees chirping, and he thinks he might have seen a few foxes, a few deer.

Of course, the tone is set when Louis enters on the back of a massive reindeer, must have been big enough to have Hagrid ride it, and it’s quite joyous, the ghosts and the teachers and the other staff and even Peeves had dropped in, but with Louis running the school now, his pranks seemed rather tame. They’d gotten along so well back then, thick as thieves.

When they all begin exchanging gifts, Harry begins panicking again, an embarrassed, hot flush heating up his body. His present, as he realizes now, might be a bit. Much. 

He’d received a scarf from Liam, and he’d been expecting the general lackluster attempt, he had been forewarned. But when the best gift thus far had been Liam’s ‘Winter Survival Kit’ from Hagrid, containing several packs of preserved meat chunks, a few rock cakes and giant blankets that could cover the floor of a classroom, he’d begun to feel quite stupid for going all out.

“Well, I got Leigh-Anne,” Niall says when it comes to be his turn, decked out in Jack Frost wear once again. “And, well. Happy Christmas,” he hands her a small envelope, unassuming and simple.

She raises her eyebrows as she takes it from him, and they give each other this little smirk, and when she peeks inside the envelope, she screams.

“Niall!” she says, pulling out two tickets of a sort. “Oh my god! You got me tickets to see Demelza?! This show was sold out  _ months  _ ago, oh my goodness. How-”

“I have my ways,” he grins, and she squeals, reaching over the circle to jump on top of him, and hug him tightly. Harry can feel Louis snigger next to him, and he stomps on his foot. “Niall, thank you, thank you, thank you. This is amazing-”

“You're very welcome, Leigh,” he says, and Harry frowns at everything.

“Alright!” Louis calls out, stomps on Harry’s foot in turn, who takes it much less gracefully. “Well, Harry, you next, then.”

He glares at Louis, but he stands anyway, brushing himself off. “Um,” he tries to begin, and his extravagant gift makes him feel a bit better, since Niall did give away two tickets that must have cost him hundreds of Galleons, but. Doesn’t know how feels knowing that he won’t be receiving that kind of attention from him. “Well, I, um, I got Niall, and-”

Louis and Liam and Zayn, among others, begin whooping, and Peeves starts singing this crude song on the fly, but he ignores it, lets the redness of his face show his humiliation but nothing else, and he clears his throat, focusing on only Niall, who’s smiling at him kindly. Says, “Well, I know you don’t really play all that often anymore, but I remember you always being such a great at Quidditch, best flyer I know,” he promptly ignores Louis’ shouts of indignation. “So, um.”

He sighs, and  _ Accio’s  _ the large package that he'd hidden in the broom cupboard earlier, and he hands it to him, the apples of his cheeks pink and flushed. “Happy Christmas, Ni.”

“Thank you, Haz,” he says, smile on his face, and he carefully unwraps the present, only to pause halfway and say, “Harry. You didn't.”

He shrugs, getting redder by the second, and Louis realizes what's in the package, and yells, “You tit! Niall, open it, I want to see-”

He removes the rest of the wrapping, and he handles the broomstick carefully, gently. It shines, absolutely gleams, every stick perfect and cut with the greatest precision, and he murmurs, “You're unbelievable, Harry. This is amazing, it's so much-”

“Fuck, an actual Trailblazer,” Louis says in awe, prodding at one of the super fine sticks of the tail.

“Harry, I, I can't accept this, this is too much,” he says, and he tries to hold it out to Harry. 

“No, it really is alright,” he says, smiling at him. Then, his heart sinks into the pit of his stomach, says, “Unless, that is, you don't like it, then maybe I-”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he says. “It’s just, this must have been so much money, I couldn’t take it-”

“It’s really okay,” he says, tells himself to calm down. “I made quite a bit in the Ministry for a job I didn’t quite like, I wouldn’t have spent that money any other way. It’s for you.” When Niall stays quiet for a few more moments, he adds quietly, “I also have a Honeydukes gift basket, if you’d like that better-”

“Oh, Harry,” he smiles then, laughing, and he pulls him into a tight hug. “Really are too charming for your own good. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he squeaks, holding him back, squeaking again when Niall presses a long kiss on his cheek. 

“Right!” Louis calls out, clapping his hands as soon as they part, giving each other shy glances. “Well, hard to follow up a Trailblazer, let me try that one time Ni, but! I present the greatest gift to be given tonight! Zayn, I got you a razor, Happy Christmas.”

Rest of the party goes very well, gifts given and songs sung and plenty of ale and mead and butterbeer consumed. By the time Hagrid is physically lifting people off to be carried back to their quarters, Louis hanging over one of his shoulders and the last notes of his ode to the Fat Lady dying on his lips, it’s Harry and Niall left to clean up after the rest of them. 

“Always did love this bit,” Niall says, the grin clearly heard in his voice, and he's making all the trash come to life, having them sing in chorus to his Lumiere.  _ “Be our guest, be our guest,  _ always was a lot of fun. Remember that time in the North Tower, before Louis took his N.E.W.T.’s?”

“Found glitter in my ears for a week after,” he says, smiling as he's magicking the spilled beverages away. “Always was a load of fun.”

“Been great, the five of us together again,” Niall says. “I mean, when we see each other during the hols, it was always good. But it's different, being able to see each other like this. I mean, it's different now, but it's still good.”

“I know what you mean,” he tells him. “But, some things don't change, you know?”

Niall glances at him, and his eyes have gone soft, his smile quiet and Harry finds it difficult to decipher. He replies, “Yeah. Some don't.”

Harry blinks, and magics some wind to cool his face as he turns away, goes on about his cleaning as nonchalantly as he could, difficult to do. 

“Before I forget,” Niall says, just as the room looks about finished, “I didn’t get you for the exchange, but. It’s been some time since I’d seen you like this, I’m always with the three other idiots. So, I got you something.”

“What?” Harry says, turns to look at him, and he’s already got a few parcels in his hands, and when he looks at his face, he’s smiling quietly, nervously. It looks quite foreign on him. “Niall, is. Is that for me?”

“Happy Christmas,” he greets, hair in that pink Harry’s grown so fond of, skin literally glowing, and Harry takes the bigger package. Unwraps it, and the label on the box makes him freeze.

“You got me Gucci? From, from the Muggle world?” he says, and he thinks his hands tremble a little. 

“I know I’d made fun of you for sneaking that catalogue in, and I still think that coat should be on the wall of your mum’s wall, but I think you’d wear it well,” he says, and Harry’s in love. “So, um. I hope you like it.”

“Niall,” he breathes, but he’s not quite done.

“And, um, I got you this as well,” he nods towards the considerably smaller parcel. Harry unwraps it, and when he takes off the lid of the small box, a gold wizard’s watch lays on a cushion, shining and beautiful.

“Holy shit, Niall,” he says, and it’s one of those nicer, pricier brands. “Ni, this is - Niall.”

“I hope it’s to your taste,” he says, “I asked your mum and she helped me pick it out.”

“Niall, this is. I can’t accept it, it’s too much,” he says. “And you know me, I’ll just lose it, sooner or later.”

“Not this one,” Niall says, and his cheeks begin to get rosy, and he fiddles with his glasses shyly. “Um, this one’s got a special enchantment. It, um. It comes back to you, when you lose it. So. Yes, well.”

“Niall,” he says, and he hugs him again, pulls him close. “Thank you, so, so, so much. This is all amazing, thank you.”

“My pleasure, Haz,” he replies, leaves another lingering kiss on his cheek, and his lips feel familiar on the spot.

.

Harry goes home for the holidays, back to his small, idyllic, posh little town, and he feels like a different person when he gets there.

“Been liking it so far, then, love?” his mum asks him as they’re prepping for dinner, she’s on the entrees and fix-ins, he’s on the puddings. “Gotten a few owls from Niall and Lou, one from Liam as well. Said you’d been doing rather well.”

“I have been enjoying it much more than I thought I would,” he says, and the bowls fills the pans up as he points his wand at the icing, the cream turning a festive red. “It’s been good.”

“I’m very glad,” she tells him, smiling wide. “So happy that you’ve found something you liked doing. Do you think you might do it, long-term?”

“I, um, I’ve thought about it,” he tells her. “And I’d like to. But I’ll decide before the school year ends.”

“Not long now, then,” Gemma slinks in through her little door, before she transitions back into human form, shaking her head to get rid of the last of the snow. “Got those herbs you were looking for mum - and you have another watch, Haz? Did you find any of the other old ones, or-”

“Ah, no, um,” he blushes, and he goes on slowly, “I got it as a present. From, uh, from Niall.”

“Harry,” Anne squeals, and Gemma rolls her eyes, takes over the sauce making from their mother and as she swirls her wand, thick pureed flavored tomatoes come pouring out from the tip. “Harry, that’s wonderful! Did he-”

“Mum, he’s not telling you that they’re not actually together,” Gemma says, and Harry throws her a wounded look, and she just shrugs. She’s not lying, in any case. “Not fallen out of love with him, then?”

“Impossible, that boy is perfect,” Anne says, answering for him, and. She’s not lying, either.

“Probably more in love than ever, now,” he tells them, bemoaning his choices in life. “Don’t know how, but I’m even more terrified to tell him how I feel now. And he’s been hanging with one of the other teachers, and she’s gorgeous, and she’s so smart and they look like they have a good time, and-”

“Have you actually asked them if they’re dating?” Gemma asks him, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He opens his mouth, only to close it a moment later, to be replaced by a frown. “Thought so,” she says, tasting the sauce before magicking some herbs into the pot. “Don’t go assuming things you don’t know, you’ll end up just looking stupid.”

“But, but! He gave her tickets! To Demelza!”

She drops the wooden spoon she’d been holding. “Demelza? I thought tickets were sold out-”

“He got them for her,” he pouts, and he jabs at the cake a tad harder than he’d intended. Sighs, then waves his wand to fill the holes back in. “Two tickets, so. They’re seeing it together.”

“Did he say it was for the two of them?” his mum asks, and he goes silent again. “Oh, sweetheart. Making truths of things you see when you’re not sure what they really mean. That’s dangerous.”

“Wasn’t planning to do anything in the first place,” he says, shrugs as if he means nothing by it. Such lies. “I mean, I’ve done okay, with admiring from afar. Don’t need to tell him if I’m okay with what we have now, right?”

“Oh, Harry,” Gemma says, shaking her head, and Harry’s marginally thankful that she’s not in her cat form, otherwise the look she gives him would be truly unbearable.

.

Teachers that had taken leave for the holidays return a week before the students do, to prepare for when term resumes. Harry finds himself helping around the castle once he gets back, on the grounds with Hagrid or chatting about with the ghosts or dismantling the pranks Louis and/or Peeves had set up the last few months with Liam and Professor Clearwater.

Niall returns from Ireland three days before term is set to begin, and as a treat, Louis lets the staff have the days off, and the five of them decide to run off to Hogsmeade and have a bit of a retreat. That is, until Louis drags Liam off to Zonko’s and Zayn visits the new brews and smokes shop a few stores away from the Hog’s Head, leaving Harry and Niall alone to walk through the cold, snow-piled streets of the little town. 

“Had a good Christmas, then?” Niall asks him, and his hair is pink today, cheeks to match. 

“Yeah, it was great,” he answers. “Mum made a real feast, it was amazing. And I tried a new cake recipe, vegan.”

“Oh, man, Anne’s cooking,” Niall moans, and Harry’s chest gets awfully tight. “I miss her, and Gems. Am I still the only person she ever allowed to pet her?”

“I think so,” Harry says, recalls the time it had happened, back when Niall had been injured. Turned herself into a cat and climbed onto his lap, nuzzled him in the hospital wing. Never allowed Harry or anyone else that privilege.

“Well, I’m glad you had a good holiday,” he says, smiles. 

“And you?” he asks in turn, and Niall beams at him.

“Yeah, it was good,” he says, “Mum and Da and Greg, Denise. Theo’s getting so big. It was good.”   
“And how was Leigh?” he asks hm, and Niall looks at him, confused. “You know, Demelza? And, um.”

“Harry,” he says slowly, and their steps take a similar pace. “Did you assume that I got those tickets for me and her?”

“Well,” he says, and he can't stop blushing then. 

“Harry, I got those for Leigh and her boyfriend,” he says, and Harry's quite sure he turns red. “Leigh and I are just friends.”

“But,” Harry mutters, “but you two are so friendly with one another, and you're always laughing and-”

Niall doesn't let him finish, instead takes his face in his hands and reels him in for a meltingly amazing kiss, a proper one on the mouth. 

Harry flails his arms a bit, doesn't know what to do with them, shocked at the turn of events, but then Niall pulls him in, holds him round his waist and deepens the kiss further, licking into his mouth, right in the middle of the street, and Harry allows himself to kiss him back, sighing in relief and happiness and he feels many things. He's quite sure he'd heard one of the passers-by mutter under their breath,  _ “Finally.” _

“You idiot,” Niall breathes when he separates their lips to take a moment. “You idiot, I've been so gone for you since we were in school, I was just waiting for you.”

“What?” he says, voice high and his cheeks are pinking up from the cold and from the snogging. 

“I've liked you for ages, Harry,” he says, squeezes his hip through the layers of clothes. “Been waiting for you for so long. I've always known that you've liked me.”

“What?!”

“You were so obvious, how could I not know.”

“Then why didn't you make a move on me then?” he squeaks, and Niall doesn't answer before kissing him again, harder. 

“Wanted you to set the terms,” he answers, and their breaths are fogging up in the cold weather, Harry can feel it on his lips. “Wanted to wait for when you were really ready.”

“Niall.”

“I didn't mind the wait,” he says, shrugging a tiny bit. Harry's so in love. “But I always thought I was so obvious, I thought you'd have known.”

“How was I supposed to know?!” he's asking, genuinely confused and Niall just sighs a bit, before he smiles, looking all endeared and fond. 

“My hair doesn't turn pink around you for no reason, Harry.”

“I thought that was just your favorite color,” he says sheepishly, and he suffers Niall's long stare. 

“No, no Harry,” he just deadpans after, and Harry feels the judgement roll off of him. It passes quickly, though, and Niall reels him in even closer and kisses him sweetly, long and wonderful. “I literally,  _ literally,  _ bloody glow when I'm with you. What other proof do you need?”

Harry turns pink to match Niall's hair, and for once, it's for good reason. He holds him by the collar of his coat, grasping his neck, and he kisses him again, everything he's wished for and more. 

He'll suffer being teased and prodded and whatever later on, when other people eventually find out that he'd dragged Niall to the Three Broomsticks to  _ set the terms,  _ because they’re classy that way. He will absolutely not resort to going to the Room of Requirement to shag, like everyone in bloody Hogwarts does _.  _ Rent out a room and asked specifically to not be disturbed for anything at all ever.

“Well,” Niall's murmuring against his mouth, covering his body with his own as they clamber onto the bed. “What do you want to do?”

“Everything,” Harry breathes against his lips, pulling him back down and keeping him close. “Make up for all that time.”

“Hmm,” Niall hums, kissing along his jaw, and Harry runs his hands through his thoroughly pink hair, almost magenta now, his breath hitching in his throat as Niall’s fingers dance underneath his shirt.

“Clothes,” Harry says, and Niall makes quick work of their clothing, removing them carefully and kissing him the while. He shivers once the last of their top layers are off, leaving their torsos bare and exposed to the cold. Niall must feel him do so, because he separates their lips for a brief moment, just to snap his fingers over his shoulder, and the fire roars back into life, a wave of warmth riding through the room.

Niall’s back is smooth under his fingers, and his chest warm pressed right up against his. Harry fights with Niall's trousers, and Niall chuckles into his neck, lifting his hips to make it easier for him to remove them. Does the same for Harry, much more gracefully, and they're naked soon enough, and Harry moans underneath him, feeling their erections slide up against one another. 

“You're so pretty,” he murmurs, wants to take his time with it. Been waiting over a decade, he will get his wait’s worth. Runs his hands all over Niall's body, resting eventually on his arse, pushing him back down to grind against him.

“You're gorgeous,” Niall tells him, his eyes looking so soft and Harry feels him turn red under his gaze, overwhelmed and everything is going so much better than he could ever had imagined. Perfect guy, not really perfect circumstances, and he could rally about the venue, but. Doesn't matter, really could give fuck all. Niall being there makes it all very much worth it. 

He hums against his mouth, Niall kissing him for a long while, just as they lie there and Harry likes it, he likes it very much and he’d be alright doing just this, but he’d also had planned to do much more.

“Ni?” he says against the kiss, and Niall leans his head back to look at him, waiting. “It’s not, um, not that I don’t, uh, like what’s going on, but-”

Niall gives him a soft chuckle, and kisses his cheek, understanding. “Got no slick, though.”

“Huh?”

“The Three Broomsticks isn’t  _ that  _ classy,” he says, and Harry’s cheeks pink even further. “And it’s not like Madam Rosmerta would stock her rooms up with condoms, either.”

“That’s, um, that’s okay, with me,” he says, and he didn’t think he could blush any more, but. “I’m clean, and, um. Uh.”

“Harry,” Niall calms him, brushing his curls back from his face. “No need to be so nervous around me.”

“Can’t help it, wanted you for so long,” Harry says, and Niall gives him a soft smile. Gets a soft kiss on his nose for his effort.

“I’m clean too, and. If you trust me-”

“I do,” he says immediately, surging up to kiss him again, lips sore with just how much snogging they’d been doing, but. “I really do, please.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Niall says, and he reaches over the nightstand for his wand, and taps the glass of water once. Harry knows what he’s just done, and he doesn’t know whether to be impressed or embarrassed, but when Niall’s hand, slicked up, grasps both of their cocks in a bitingly good grip, he forgets everything else.

“How do you-”

“You do me,” he replies immediately, bucking into his hand and biting his lip as their dicks slide together.

“Okay, okay, can you turn over for me, love?” he asks him, and Harry nods, does as he's asked as Niall's hands gently coax him, helping him lie on his stomach. 

“Comfortable?” Niall asks him, and he nods, shivering at the soft kiss on his shoulder that he receives. “Tell me if-”

“Niall,” he hisses, and Niall chuckles quietly, acquiescing and leaving a trail of kisses on his back, and before Harry knows it, he's sucking into one of his arse cheeks, leaving a mark as he traces the rim with a slippery finger. Harry groans, arching his back and he bites down on the pillow, pushing his hips back. “Niall-”

“Yeah, got you, love,” he murmurs, coming back up to kiss him, at the same time, pushing the first finger in slowly. Harry moans, feels himself open up slightly for him, and he pushes back on it.

“Good?” Niall’s asking him, and he nods, asking for two fingers, and it’s given to him. Soon, there are three fingers fucking in and out of him, getting him ready and open and Niall had found the spot early on, his fingers crooked and brushing against it purposely every other thrust in, and Harry can’t quite contain his noises, heard even when he attempts to drown them out in the pillow. 

“Oh, oh  _ fuck,”  _ he cries, and Niall’s biting at his earlobe and squeezing at his side with his free hand. “Niall, I-”

“Okay, okay,” Niall sounds less than composed, pulling out his fingers and Harry whines at the loss, but has no time to mourn it for long when he feels the head of his cock teasing his hole, not quite pushing in, just resting there, and then.

“Oh,  _ fucking fuck,” _ Harry whines, moaning as he begins pushing in, filling his arse up, and Niall moans along with him as he bottoms out.

“Holy shit, Harry,” he mutters, his hand skating his back, the other grasping his hip. “You’re - holy shit, you’re perfect, perfect around me.”

Harry whimpers at the praise, clenching around his cock, and every part of him is trembling in pleasure. Niall pulls out, only to fuck back in, harder and just slightly faster, and Harry is just short of yelling, Niall’s hand on the small of his back pinning his spasming body down.

“Oh god, Niall,” he says, and he pushes his arse up. Niall gets it quickly, getting up on his knees and helping Harry raise himself to all fours. His hands grip his love handles, and he fucks into him, hard and careful.

Harry hopes that the room’s got some kind of enchantment to muffle out sounds, because he’s not helping himself with the amount of noise he’s making and the sheer volume. Soon, the sound that their skin makes when they slap together adds to the overall din, and he’s trying to find something to hold on to, hands tangling into the sheets, squeezing the life out of the pillow, and Niall must see, because he takes his hands, and he’s embracing him tightly, his chest flush to Harry’s back as he goes harder.

“You’re so tight,” he whispers into Harry’s ear as he pounds his cock in, fucking into his arse, and it’s a wonder how that makes Harry tighten up around him, make him even harder, but it does, and he doesn’t question it.

He just says in turn, “Hope you like it.”

“Don’t sound so fucking innocent,” Niall groans, fucking him faster, and hearing him swear is making all the blood go south and Harry wants to berate himself for waiting so long, for being so oblivious, but when Niall’s cock fucks in just so, everything flies out of his head and he moans so loud. He doesn’t think any sort of spell can save anyone from the noise they’re making now, and his elbows give out from under him, leaving his arse up in the air.

Niall straightens up, and Harry feels one of his hands on his arse, spreading his cheeks apart, and he realizes that he’s watching him open up for his cock, watching himself enter him.

He knows that he’s not going to last very long. Knew it from the beginning, and it seems all that more apparent now, feels his cock leaking and the need to come almost painful. 

“Ni,” he whimpers, and Niall’s holding his hand to his stomach again, pushing in in in, his breath hot in Harry’s ear and making his arse clench and wink around his length.

“This - I can’t, want to see you,” he breathes, pulling out of him. “Can you-”

He doesn’t need to finish, Harry’s already turning over to his back, sheets cool on his back and Niall’s on him immediately, molding his body to his and situating himself between his legs.

“Hi, there,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing him languidly, softly, and Harry sighs into his mouth, and he wants to come, but he also wants the warmth above him, wants it all. He tangles his legs around Niall’s waist as they kiss, pulling him even closer and sucks on his tongue, feels like a flame is dancing within him, makes his insides burn up in the best way.

He grasps his erection, making Niall grunt and fuck into his fist, and he guides it back to where he’s open and waiting for him. 

“Bloody fucking  _ hell,  _ Harry,” he murmurs, their chests sliding together as he fucks into him slow and careful but hard. “Waited ages for this, can’t believe it.”

“So worth it,” he says, gasping as Niall gets the spot again perfectly, and his arms flail out as they’re wont to do, but Niall guides them to wrap over his neck, and he kisses him again as he goes on pushing into him again and again.

It’s barely a minute, before he feels the heat swirl in the pit of his stomach, and his erection hardens further, desperate to release. “Niall,” he breathes, gasping when he fucks in perfectly, “Shit, I-”

He understands immediately, and he snakes his hand down between them and begins fisting him along to the pace he’s set. Harry yells, pretty sure he’s scratching Niall’s back, but he’s not stopped from doing so, and Niall leans down to whisper in his ear, “Perfect, you’re amazing. You can come, want to see it-”

It’s more than enough, and when he does come, Harry is surprised at how soundless he is. His lips latch onto Niall’s, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he continues fucking into him, chasing his own orgasm, and it’s sensitive, not enough to make him want to stop, teetering the edge of painful and amazing.

“Niall, come on,” he helps him along, takes it when he’s pounded into harder and faster, erratically, “fill me up.”

_ “Fucking hell,”  _ Niall whines as he shoves in once, twice, then stops. Harry blushes at how much come he feels inside him, how much he likes it.

“Sorry, let me just,” Niall’s saying, pulling out slow, and Harry turns crimson when he feels it leak out of him. “Sorry-”

“No, I don’t hate it,” he says, “I really, really don’t.”

“Harry, bloody hell,” he breathes, then he’s holding his face in his hands and pressing their numb lips together. It’s sticky and tacky between them where Harry’s come is drying, and he really should clean himself out down there, but they’re all distant concerns as Niall cuddles him to the bed, kissing him and holding him close in a tight embrace and it’s much better than he could ever had bargained for.

.

Harry thought that things would feel different after they had shagged, but. He finds that they don’t, not totally, and he figures that’s because he had been too stupid to realize the whole time that his feelings weren’t unrequited. Niall still looks at him the same, still treats him the same way, maybe a few more kisses, whatever. But otherwise.

The big cosmic shift he’d maybe expected didn’t come, and he finds himself to be completely relieved about it all.

First day of term, and they’re in the Great Hall, having breakfast, and Louis and Liam are arguing about Tony and Steve, as usual, and Zayn is sniffing his drink and dropping something in from a vial in his coat, as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Harry gets there, then Niall, hair going pink once he sees Harry, the smile on his face wide and beautiful, and they talk the way they usually do, about anything, and it’s as easy as ever.

It’s when Niall stands up, maybe ten minutes before class is due to begin to prepare today’s lesson for the fifth years, that he’s leaning down and before Harry realizes it, he’s placing a sweet kiss on his lips in goodbye. 

He hears the rest of the Hall go quiet, witness to their affection, the rest of the table dead silent. He thinks Louis might have fallen over in his seat, probably on the floor, but he can’t quite focus on them, his face too red and Niall’s soft smile too pretty, and he’s leaving, walking out the room to head to the other tower.

_ “GET IN, PROFESSOR!”  _ he’s sure it’s Scorpius Malfoy who yells, breaking the silence, and the rest of the studentry erupt in cheers, maybe some of the other teachers as well.

“When did this happen, you twat?” Louis is yelling at him, and Zayn is snickering into his goblet, while Liam says under his breath,  _ “Finally.” _

Harry is in the midst of teaching the fourth years the Summoning Charm, pillows flying about the room as the students try to practice the spell on them, shouts of  _ “Accio!”  _ echoing through the room, when James Potter is beaming and waving at him by the door.

“Oh, god,” he mutters, walking over to greet him, knowing this has Louis written all over it. “Mr. Potter.”

“Didn’t get to say earlier, congratulations, Sir!” he grins, and Harry appreciates it, but people are overreacting. “I told you we were rooting for the two of you!”

“Yes, thank you, James,” he says, blushes and smiles despite himself, but he shakes himself out of it, says seriously, “What is it, then? Headmaster Tomlinson is…?”

“Oh, he’s asking you to meet him in his office at your earliest availability. And he also says, um, Bucky sucks? I think? I’m just quoting him, sir.”

“I got it,” he sighs, “Thank you Mr, Potter.”

Just as well, because the moment after he had said that, a pillow comes flying his way and knocks him to the ground.

After he’d made a quick trip to the Hospital Wing, wherein Madam Pomfrey had shaken her head at him and said something along the lines of  _ “About time,”  _ he goes over to Louis’ office, where even the griffin statue guarding the entrance had something to say to him about he and Niall finally getting their shit together. 

“Bucky sucks,” he says the password, and the griffin winks at him, beaky mouth set in something he supposes his a smile.

“Think I know some other people who do,” it says, and Harry’s jaw drops.

“Louis is honestly the worst, Christ’s sake,” he mutters as the griffin cackles, letting him in on the staircase.

When he gets into the office, Louis is underneath his desk, throwing stuff over his shoulder as he looks for something. He emerges, grin on his face and a bottle of some sort of magical liquor in his hands. 

“No, Lou,” he says immediately, shaking his head, but Louis is nodding his, snaps his fingers and two goblets appear midair, and another snap, the bottle uncorks itself and pours out into them.

“So, Harry,” he says, feigns nonchalance as he takes a seat in his chair, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table. Harry reluctantly takes a seat when Louis gestures to one of his chairs, and the chairs magically skid right behind him, ready to be sat on. He takes one of the glasses as it floats towards him, and he says, “You’ve obviously shagged.”

“Louis,” he hisses, promptly ignoring the glass that’s bouncing on his head. The portraits on the walls make similar noises of disdain.

“So, my question is,  _ when  _ did you shag?” he asks, sipping from his goblet and smirking at him.

“That’s none of your business,” he says, taking the glass and setting it on the table firmly.

“But you  _ did  _ shag?”

“Mr. Tomlinson, please,” Snape is saying from his perch, sounding vicious and taking no shit. “As if it is any of your right to know about other people’s personal intimate lives.”

“Ay, come on, Severus!” he says, and Snape’s lips curl into an unpleased frown. “Don’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious?”

“It’s none of your business, Lou!” Harry yells, because he sees the other Headmasters about to reply, the looks on their faces telling him that they are most definitely curious, and he’s not about to tell Louis, or any of the very much not alive paintings on the walls, of his personal life.

“But you did shag?” he says, grinning.

Harry chooses not to give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer, but when he feels his ears heat up and the rest of his face must be blushing, he figures it’s moot to say anything at all. 

Louis starts cackling, and with a wave of his wand the whole office erupts in confetti and glitter and the furniture start to sing. 

“Congratulations, Professor Styles,” Dumbledore’s portrait says calmly despite all the ruckus, and Harry looks at him. He’s got a quiet little smile on his face. “Told you, it didn’t take very long, did it?”

“Albus, you  _ genius!”  _ Louis says, and Harry blinks at the portrait, whose kind eyes did not disappear.

“I told you,” he just continues serenely. “Never had seen in these many years such a genuine, mutual affection. You make each other very happy. Let it stay that way.”

“Ay, Dumbledore, what would this school do without you,” Louis says, tipping his goglet towards him, and in turn, Dumbledore tips his head to him, greeting, “Headmaster.”

Harry blinks, and when he looks over to the portrait, Dumbledore is already smiling softly at him, also giving him a simple nod of his head.

Later near the end of the day, as Harry is walking to the Great Hall for supper, someone wraps an arm around his waist, the touch warm and assuring, and he smiles.

“Hi, Ni,” he says, and Niall chuckles, squeezing his side, then drawing away, only to offer his hand. Harry stares at the proffered palm, and Niall takes the opportunity to kiss him briefly. He hears several students squeal and sigh as they pass them by.

“May I walk you to dinner?” he asks, and Harry blushes, but nods all the same. Links their fingers together, and as they make their way to the Hall, he asks simply, “So! How did your day go?”

“Louis corrupted the griffin of the Headmaster’s office,” he says seriously, and Niall laughs. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go there ever again. And the furniture sang to me. It was very strange.”

“Did Dumbledore-”

“He’s too brilliant for his own good,” he says, and Niall just cackles. He pouts, but it doesn’t stay on his face for long, and he asks him, “And you?”

“Yes, my sixth years gave me a  _ ‘Congrats on the sex’  _ cake,” he says plainly, and Harry makes a dying noise in his throat. Niall laughs again, the sound easy and wonderful and he kisses Harry on the cheek, and directs the conversation to how he found a boggart in Zayn’s ingredients cupboard, and they go off from there, as they always do.

.

The holding hands as they walk the halls and the occasional kiss here and there becomes something of routine, but aside from that, Niall and Harry are still Niall and Harry. It occurs to Harry that maybe, they always had been, and he's been too oblivious to realize it.

Everyone gets used to it, though it doesn't stop them from cooing and getting giddy whenever they catch them in a moment of sweetness, and Louis has the ghosts sing to them on occasion. 

It's a bit more than a month to the day that Niall had kissed him, and they're doing rather well. 

He’s just dismissed his class early, too many of them fired up for the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match for that weekend, and had allowed them to play games for the duration of the lesson, and he was walking the corridor back to his quarters, when a great, ethereal silver stag comes bounding out, running around him, then making its way back into the room it must have come from.

Harry blinks, a bit winded, but he’s intrigued all the same. Makes his way to the classroom, and it's a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, seventh years learning how to conjure up a Patronus. The students, in varying stages of success, are trying out the charm, yells of  _ “Expecto Patronum!”  _ ringing about the room, and Harry sees many wisps of silver, some domes, some shields, but aside from that one stag, no true Patronus forms yet.

“Sorry, Professor,” James Potter is saying to him then, a great grin on his face as the silver stag makes a circle around him, disappearing a moment later. “Didn’t mean to shock you.”

“Just like your father’s, I suppose,” he says, and James beams at him. 

“Harry Potter and his legendary stag,” Niall chimes in then, and the fond smile on his face makes Harry smile softly in turn. “James here was just demonstrating for me. He's had the Patronus down for years.”

“Must be very skilled, then,” Harry notes, and James preens at the compliment.

“What’s your Patronus then, sir?” he asks, and some of the other students had noticed his presence, had given up trying to execute the difficult enchantment and instead turned their attention to their teachers. 

“Oh, I’m not,” he says, shaking his head, and some of the girls have taken positions around them, waiting. “No, I’m not an expert, I don’t-”

“But you  _ can _ conjure up a Patronus, Professor?” one of them asks, and he feels quite out of his depth. 

“Well, yes, but-”

“Let's see it, then,” Niall tells him, and Harry blinks at him, cheeks coloring. 

“I-”

“Come on,” he says, smiling widely as he encourages him. “I know you’ve got it.”

Harry stares at him for a moment, and when Niall’s smile just grows fonder, and he can’t very well say no. The happy thought isn’t difficult to decipher, and Niall just gives him this soft look, as if he knows exactly what he were thinking of, and he holds out his wand, says in a strong, firm voice,  _ “Expecto Patronum.” _

Silver light erupts from the end of his wand, and a young doe emerges from the glow, running gracefully about the room.

“Baby Deer,” Niall chuckles quietly, and Harry looks at him, remembers how Niall had used to call him that back when they were still in school. The sweetest term of endearment, he realizes now, already special in its own right, now made more wonderful when Niall brings out his wand, and effortlessly conjures up his own Patronus silently. 

A fox bounds out, chasing his deer playfully, fast on its feet and leaping and beautiful and Harry stares at it approach him, circle him once, before it disappears.

“A - a fox?” he stutters, watching Niall give him this knowing little look. “Since, um, since when?”

“Baby Deer,” he just repeats, but it’s more than enough to answer, and Harry tries his absolute most to keep the overwhelmed noises within the confines of his throat, but then Niall’s conjuring up the silver fox again, and it immediately bounds up to him, nuzzling his hand, then his cheek, before snuggling into his neck before it diminishes into wisps of light, disappearing in thin air. Harry knows then, that there really is no help for it now.

“Oh,  _ god,”  _ he whines, as quietly as he can, and he hides his reddening face in his hands and Niall doesn’t help things, chuckling as he tries holding his face in his hands. He hears the students giggling and cooing and making teasing little noises and plenty of  _ “Awww!”, _ and he feels like his heart is going to melt into a puddle of very happy and loved up goo.

.

They’re lucky that everyone just seems to be so accepting, maybe even enthusiastic, about their relationship. No one calls them out on their excessive affectionate behavior, they might even encourage it, which gets very weird very fast. But, as amazing as things are, months into this, Harry and Niall can’t seem to-

Well. Being in a school, where there are always kids around at all times of day, and where teacher’s quarters aren’t exactly completely private or appropriate, or. 

“You could just say you’re begging for a shag, you idiot,” Zayn says frankly, and Harry chokes on his pumpkin juice.

“Could you be any louder?!” he whisper-yells, and Zayn cocks an eyebrow at him, about to point his wand to his throat, before Harry knocks it out of his hand. “I was  _ joking,  _ you shit.”

“Why don’t you talk to your boyfriend, then, before you go off bemoaning your dried up sex life to me?” he scoffs.

“Why is it that you’re always arguing at breakfast?” Liam sighs, his plate already piled high with food as he settles down. “Such a pure meal, supposed to be the best part of the day, and you two are always shitting on each other and I can't really focus on my meal.”

“It keeps them young, Payno!” Louis greets, sits on the Headmaster’s chair and he steals off of Zayn’s plate despite the full array of food before him. “Yes, and by the way, Batman would have totally lost against Superman.”

“Louis, there is a whole film about that not being the  _ point-” _

“So, Haz!” he cuts Liam off, munching on a bit of toast. “What's the dilemma? Why do you look so stroppy?”

“Nothing, I'm fine,” he says, stabbing at his eggs. 

“He and Niall haven't shagged in a while and the sex deprivation is getting to him,” Zayn says without any fanfare, and Harry squawks at him. 

“Zayn!”

“Why don't you just do it in the Room of Requirement, like everyone else does?” Louis says, and Liam makes a noise of agreement. 

“Because  _ that's what everyone else does,”  _ he replies, and the others snort into their food. “Seriously! Everyone must use it to shag, that's weird and I don't feel very comfortable asking such an old place for a venue for sex.”

“But it's like a right of passage, or some shit,” Louis says, trails off and saluting as the Bloody Baron greets him solemnly,  _ “Admiral.”  _ “Everyone has done it in there at least once while they’re here. You and Niall obviously missed your chance then. It must be your time now.”

“So you mean you lot have had sex in there?!” Harry says, and the three of them look at him blankly. 

“Oh, Harry, naive flower,” Zayn says, sighing as he stands up from the table and slinks off, probably to have a bit of a kip before his first class for the day. 

“It’s not all bad, Haz,” Liam says, frowning when Harry groans. “It’s actually pretty sweet-”   
“I’m good, thank you, Liam,” he  says quickly before he can delve into it. Doesn’t need to know any more of the details of what goes on in there. 

“It’s not like you’ll get any classier in this place,” Louis says, shrugging. “You’re better off there than the Three Broomsticks.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he drops his cup of tea, which Louis charms from crashing on to the ground easily. “How did you-”

“Madam Rosmerta sent me the bill for the cleaning and damages,” he says simply, and Harry feels himself turn red. Louis cackles, says, “What did you two do in there? I mean, I’m all for it, but if I’m gonna pay for it, I’d like to know what-”

“It doesn’t matter!” Harry says, stands up and takes a handful of biscuits with him, bewitches his cup to hover next to his head. “I’m off to my first class.”

“It really isn’t all that bad, Haz!” Louis calls out after him, and the students look at him cluelessly, and Harry wants to die, a bit.

Niall finds him later on for lunch by the lake, and again for supper, a bit of a picnic down at the kitchens, where Niall treats all the elves like old friends, swapping stories and when Harry decides to make a bit of a treacle tart, they all rush to help him, clambering over one another to get his ingredients and watch him avidly.

It’s late, castle is dark and it’s just the ghosts and caretakers roaming the corridors, and Niall’s dragging him through the school, running around the corridors like they haven’t in many years, and it’s fun chasing after him, trying not to get caught, but when they get to the seventh floor and Harry sees the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he stops in his tracks.

“Niall, what are we doing here?” he asks, sees Niall observing the wall across, right where the Room of Requirement should be. 

“Harry,” he sighs, sets his hands on his waist. “May I kiss you?”

“Niall, you’re acting weird,” he says, but he leans in and kisses him all the same, Lets his lips linger, and he says, “What’s wrong?”

“I, um it’s a bit. Embarrassing,” he says, bows his head a bit as his cheeks color and his hair turns flaming red.

Harry blinks. “Niall?”

“It’s been  _ months, _ and it’s not like I don’t like what we have now,” he says quickly, under his breath and he turns red all over. “I do, I really, really do, but it’s been months and I can’t forget that time and I just want to -  _ god.” _

“Niall?” Harry says, really not following, and Niall sighs, hiding his face in his hands. “Ni, I don’t-”

“Ireallymisshavingsexwithyou,” he says in one single breath, the sound muffled and he makes a strangled noise after, and Harry’s ears won’t stop ringing with what he’d just said. “Shit,  _ fuck,  _ I’m sorry, but. I know you didn’t want to have to resort to having to have sex in the Room of Requirement, but-”

Harry doesn’t let him finish, throws his arms around him and kisses him hard, almost toppling them over, but Niall manages to stay balanced, opening his mouth willingly and easily as Harry licks in. 

“Shit, yeah, yeah, me too,” he mutters, before diving back in and sucking on his tongue. “Been on edge for  _ ages, _ even told the boys-”

“What?” Niall separates away from him, eyes wide.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, but I was just desperate,” he says, his own cheeks turning red, but Niall is sucking on his pulse point, making a mark, and his hips buck forward. “And they told me to go to the Room of Requirement, and I made a big scene but it doesn’t matter anymore, doesn’t matter where,” he breathes, attaches their lips once again. “I don’t care where, just need to be with you.”

“Shit, love,” he whispers, and Harry trembles in his arms and he really is very gone for him.

A door magically materializes on the blank wall in front of them, and they stumble in through into a low-lit room, everlasting candles lit all around and making it ridiculously cheesy and overly romantic, but Harry could give no shits, not when Niall guides them over to the cushions on the floor, kissing him as he straddles his waist and unbuttons his shirt.

“Shit, this place is well-stocked,” he breathes, tries to help him strip as well but he feels more like a hindrance. Niall snorts, but as soon as his top’s off, he bends over and kisses him fiercely, grinding down on his crotch. Harry moans, throwing his head back and Niall makes quick work of their pants, and they’re sliding their cocks together, and the room responds in kind, a soft music filtering through the walls, and-

“Christ’s sake,” he says, completely unamused at the Lionel Richie trying to set the mood. Niall laughs, collapses on top of him and he shakes as he chuckles at the stupidity of it all, holding Harry close.

“Could do without the saxophones,” he says, grinning when the room seems to listen to him, goes silent and it gets a touch warmer, lights dimmer, and he looks down at Harry, eyes going soft. “Better?”

“It must enjoy doing this,” he mutters, and Niall smiles at him. “Deliberately making things purposely unsexy - I think it’s trying to deter us from doing it, by being horrendous.”

Niall gives him this quiet little smirk, grinding down on him  and Harry grunts, his cock fattening up considerably. “Just need you, so. I think I’m alright.”

And it’s frustrating, that Niall’s like that. So inexplicably sweet and kind and wonderful and knows what to say and surprise him when he least expects it. Harry doesn’t feel like he’s any less with him, though. Niall has a way of making him feel like he’s the best thing on earth, and it’s a feeling or a kind of affection he can’t quite get used to. 

His cheeks redden, and his chest gets all weirdly tight and tingly, so he cranes his neck up and Niall gives him a kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck and keeping him close.

“You good, love?” he asks, and Harry nods. “Okay, think I want you to be in me, is that alright?”

Harry makes a pained noise, all of it going to his cock and he just snogs him hard, showing his assent, and Niall smiles against his lips. Harry accepts the joyful giggle Niall emits into his mouth, and it lights him up from the inside, makes him feel instantly better. Magical Veela-Metamorphmagus laughs, instant Cheering Charm in a soundbite.

He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about the abundance of lube and condoms in the room, not when Niall’s asking him so prettily to finger him open, and he spills too much everywhere as he tries in haste to get his fingers slicked up. He holds his waist as he gets up on his knees properly, and he bites on Harry’s shoulder as he opens him up carefully, slowly and thoroughly.

Soon enough, he’s bouncing on three fingers, moving his hips up and down as he tries to get more of Harry in him, and Harry’s lost his breath, can’t stop staring at him, and all he can really do is push his fingers up into him as he goes.

_ “Fuck,”  _ Niall’s thighs tremble, and Harry holds his slim hips, holds him close as he comes back down, legs tired and he pulls out his hand, kisses him as they settle down.

“I’ve got you,” he tells Niall, and Niall looks right at him, his eyes a blazing, beautiful blue, and Harry gets a condom on himself, and helps guide Niall on his cock. “I’ve got you.”

“I know you do,” Niall says, smiling at him, just for him, and Harry’s heartened. He holds Niall’s arse in his hands, and guides him on to ride him. 

“Holy, just,  _ god,”  _ he gasps, as his cock is taken, and Niall makes similar noises and swears, his,  _ “Uhhh”  _ ringing out in the room, head thrown back and beautiful thick neck right there for Harry to take full advantage of. He bites and sucks a mark on it, hopes Niall will remember to put a Concealment Charm or something on the bruises he’ll be getting, waits for Niall to settle around him.

“Do you want to lie down?” he asks him, feels his deep breathing pressed right up against his chest.

“No, we’re good,” Niall tells him, his arse clenching around him. Harry lets out a strangled noise, coming deep within his chest. And Niall lifts up, his cock pulling out slowly until just the tip is in, and he slams back down on him, hard enough that the slap of their skin is heard.

“Fuck,  _ holy fuck,”  _ he breathes, and he grasps Niall’s arse cheeks and helps him along as he rides him, thrusting his hips up and meeting him halfway.

“You’re so good,” Niall murmurs, kissing him hard before he moans into the still air, fucking himself down on Harry, his arse just opening up perfectly and Harry didn’t think he could get any harder, but.

They go rougher, harder, faster still, and it’s amazing, makes his toes curl up and his heart race into overdrive. Niall’s length slides up against his stomach, leaking at the tip as they fuck, and he’s so very gone.

“Fucking hell,” Harry mutters, just as Niall goes from bouncing and pounding himself on him to rolling his hips, trying to get him deeper inside him, still. “Niall, your arse-”

He squeezes tight around him, groaning, and Harry just about screams at how good everything feels. 

“God, fucking god,  _ fuck, fucking fuck me,”  _ Niall growls, biting at Harry’s bottom lip and he goes for it, just bounces and shoves his hips down and taking him in, fucking himself fast with no sense of real rhythm and just is, still crazy amazing and Harry is the same. Fucks into him with fast, sharp thrusts up into his hole without any grace, needing to come quickly.

“Niall,  _ Niall,”  _ he pants, and when Niall kisses him again, he’s done, they both are. He rabbits up into him, coming into the rubber and squeezing his arse, pulling him right down as he rings out his orgasm. Niall comes just as soon as he does, the lightest grip around his erection and he loses it, spilling over their stomachs as he’s gasping and moaning into Harry’s mouth.

“God, thank you,” he murmurs, pulling Niall’s face down for a kiss, feels him smile and laugh against his mouth, like another dose of instant cheer in a sound. 

“Not so bad, was it?” Niall says, pressing his lips to his nose.

“No, I reckon it’s just you,” Harry tells him in reply, earning him another deep kiss.

.

Weeks pass, and they’ve maybe used to Room of Requirement maybe a few more times. He tells no one anything, learning from his mistakes.

Things are wonderful, spectacular, absolutely nothing short of magical, with everything. He has a job that he’s surprised to discover that he actually does like very much, with kids and students he’s grown very fond of. He likes the people he works with, the grounds he works in, and everything is going very, very well. 

He and Niall are wonderfully okay. Very, very, very okay, in every sense, and he doesn’t think he’s smiled or kissed or shagged this much, felt so much in so very long, and he’s so so happy. 

Snow’s gone and spring is about to begin, birds have returned and trees have shaken off the cold, and the grounds, beautifully wintry white and crystal now melting back into worn and loved stones and grasses of green, and the school year is winding down.

Harry’s gone down to the courtyard, wanting to meet Niall there after their last classes for the day, when he sees him speaking quietly to a man Harry’s seen before, but can’t quite place. Middle-aged, but obviously an athlete of a sort, still built quite well and he stands proud, must be a Quidditch player. 

He doesn’t make to hide, but he does stand off to the side, lets them have their conversation as he waits for Niall. He doesn’t seem to be speaking much, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of the gentlemen, who keeps speaking and making these gestures. They shake hands once they’ve finished after a few more minutes, and he hears him tell Niall,  _ “I’ll keep in touch!”,  _ before he goes off and leaves.

“Who was that?” he asks as he walks over to Niall, whose hair has gone rather dull blonde, his face cast to the ground.

He stays quiet for a moment, and, after a moment to shake himself off, he looks at Harry, his hair turning pink and his eyes bright vivid blue, and he smiles softly, saying, “No one important.”

“But who was it?” he persists, accepting the soft kiss on the cheek offered to him.

Niall blinks at him, before conceding, answers, “Barry Ryan.”

The name clicks in his mind, and his eyes widen as he realizes, “The Keeper in, um, 1996? For the Irish?”

“1994, love. Legendary,” Niall says, dreamy grin on his face. “Absolute legend.”

“Why were you talking to him?” he asks, links their fingers together.

He doesn’t say anything again for a while, and they just walk  the corridors, other students running past them to get the best parts of dinner before the others do, and he waits for his answer patiently.

He finally speaks as they’re drawing near to the Hall, voice quiet, “He’s the manager of the Irish team now. Did you know?”

“Oh, um, no. I didn’t.”

“He was just hired recently,” Niall says, hands swinging between them gently. “And, he’s looking for new players, since a load of them’s going to retire soon.”

Harry knows where this is going, and it makes his chest feel weird, uncomfortable. “He’s offered me a position. He used to come around to watch the games here and remembered that I used to be a Chaser, and he went to that training camp I did in Bulgaria to scout for other players, so.”

“Niall,” he breathes, and his hair’s gone back to the lifeless dirty blonde, “that's. That's huge.”

“It doesn't matter,” Niall says, and when he looks at Harry again, his smile is soft on his face, so are his eyes, and his hair turns a lovely shade of lilac, burgeoning on pink. “The offer was very kind, but I’m very happy where I am.”

“Niall-”

He doesn’t quite get the opportunity to finish the thought, because Niall kisses him soundly, just a quick peck, but no less short on affection. 

“It’s okay,” he says, smiling. “I really am very happy, here. Don’t need much else,” he tells him, pulling him close and then pressing his lips to his cheek. “Don’t worry.”

But Harry does, despite the smiles Niall gives him, diverting the conversation in another direction as they go into the Great Hall for supper. He continues to worry about it, until that weekend as he’s watching Niall referee the Quidditch final between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and the whole school bar Zayn had turned out, and Louis had ignored every rule and worn head to toe read and gold, face painted as he cheers boisterously for the Lions.

“Christ, he’ll never stop,” Liam mutters, and he himself supporting the House he heads, decked in yellow and black and sitting properly next to Harry. As if wanting to show by example how to act with dignity, very much unlike Louis at the top row of the stands, standing and waving flags about and drinking bottle after bottle of butterbeer sploshing it on the people in the rows before him. Harry’s learned from before, and charmed a little shield around him. 

“Niall’s flying very well,” he remarks, and he is. He always does, in any case, but today, it seems like he’s going faster, swerving in and out of the players seamlessly, and several of the students seem to notice as well, cheering and awed as he makes trick dives and many impressive flying moves, certainly much better than any of the other players. Seems like he’s let himself show off just a bit more today. 

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Liam agrees, letting out an impressed,  _ “Ooohhh”  _ when Niall easily avoids a Bludger, even manages to fly in a circle around it. He makes a soft, disappointed noise when Gryffindor scores, 70 to 20, in contrast to Louis’ yelling and screaming. 

“He’d make a good professional player, wouldn’t he?” he muses sadly, and Liam glances at him curiously.

“Yeah, he would, but he chose not to,” he says. “He loves teaching, best teacher school’s ever had probably. What’s the matter, Harry?”

“He said he was offered a position in the Irish National Quidditch Team,” he says quickly, and Liam looks at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in surprise. “Um, Barry, um, Barry-”

“Barry Ryan?” Liam completes for him, his eyes getting bigger and mouth more open when Harry nods. “Shit, Haz, he’s one of the best Keepers in history.”

“Well, he was just hired to be the new manager for the Irish, and he came by the other day,” he says, and Liam makes a strangled, starstruck noise. “He and Niall were talking then, and when I asked Niall about it, well.”   
“Why? Did he say he’d take the job?”

“No, he said he wouldn’t,” Harry says, doubt laced in his voice. “He said he was happy here. But-”

“Oh, Harry, don’t,” Liam says, knowing where it’s going, pausing briefly just to cheer for the Chasers in yellow, who’d just scored and brought the score to 80-30. “Niall wouldn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. Might take him a bit to show his true feelings, but he doesn’t lie, especially not to you.”

“But, I don’t know, you should have seen him,” he says, clapping half-heartedly when Gryffindor manages to score again. “His hair went all boring and he didn’t want to look at me.”

“I think you’re taking it out of context, Haz,” he says, repelling the bottle Louis had thrown at him with a flick of his wand. “I wouldn’t worry about it, alright? Niall’s not the type to just lie outright.”

Harry looks at him, feeling a bit uneasy, but he lets it go for the moment, when Louis screams as the Seeker in scarlet comes up from a dive, Snitch in her hand and the crowd roars. Liam sighs, waving away the likeness of the lion Louis had bewitched to fly around him.

.

It eats him up inside, and he knows Liam told him not to worry about it, that Niall likes where he is and he’s assured Harry, several times, but it’s an incredible opportunity. He’s always known that Niall could do anything he wanted to, and anyone and everyone would offer him the opportunity to work for them, and he can’t quite stop thinking about it. Sees Niall flying around in the Quidditch pitch during breaks or after dinner, and he talks about it a little more, and Harry sees the longing in his face. He wonders, and eventually he can’t stop thinking about it, so of course he spirals into winding thoughts and daydreams of  _ “What if?” _

They’re eating lunch in the gardens today, and Harry knows he shouldn’t mention it anymore, knows it’s not an issue, but when the conversation turns to the preliminary matches for who would be competing in the Quidditch World Cup in two years, he can’t quite help it.

“You’d make a great player for the Irish,” he blurts out, and Niall looks at him, mouth open and burger halfway through his mouth. “Best flyer I know, you’d be amazing.”

“Well, thanks Haz,” he says, confusion clearly in his voice. “But I don’t think Ireland will even make it to the playoffs this year.”

“But with someone like you in the team, they probably could,” he says, and he feels him staring at him. He bows his head, and hopes his mouth can stay shut, but the words just keep pouring out of his mouth.

“Harry,” he says slowly, putting his food down. “You’ve been acting strange. What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to play anymore?” he says, and his eyes widen as he realizes what’s just come out of his mouth, but he can’t stop talking. “Like, I see the look on your face, and I see the way you fly. You miss it.”

“Well, okay, fine. I do, but it doesn’t matter,” he says, and he looks a bit alarmed that this conversation is taking place. “Harry, I love my job here-”

“But you could be great, you know?” he says. “Like. Known all over the world, having people adore you-”

“I don’t need that,” he says, and he can hear the truth in it. “Harry, I told you already. I love being here.”

“But you’d do so much good over there.”

“Harry,” he says, “I don’t understand. Why are you bringing this up?”

“You’ve got so much potential, and. Just. I think you’re wasting it by not taking the chance, and-”

“Harry, I told you, didn’t I?” Niall says, and he looks a bit hurt, which isn’t what Harry wanted, at all. “I love being a teacher. And I miss it, but it’s not enough for me to go pro. I don’t think, um, that I’m wasting anything, here. I get to see the kids, my mates. You.”

“But!” he tries, cheeks pinking up when Niall just looks at him so softly, and, “I don’t know, I’m just trying to help you realize that you could do better,” he says, panicked, and Niall’s eyes flash. “I mean, no, that came out wrong, I’m sorry. It’s just. I don’t know, I’m trying to be supportive.”

“Then be supportive, Harry! I want to stay here,” he says, and he’s gathering his things, and no. “This is what I want to do, but. If you think differently-”

He stops talking, eyes going wide, and he shakes his head, hair back to the dull, plain blonde. “Harry, do you want me to stay?” he asks him, eyes shining and his skin ruddy. 

Harry stares at him, and he wants to say,  _ “Yes, yes I do,”  _ but he can’t seem to get his lips moving, and he feels stupidly emotional, and this isn’t even an issue. Never was, and he had to make something of it when there wasn’t any need for it. 

He takes too long, and Niall breathes, blinking, and he walks off, leaving Harry sitting there in the grass and feeling very foolish.

They sit together for supper, but Niall doesn’t seem to want to engage in conversation, focusing on his food instead, and Harry feels like crying, because it was his own bloody fault in the first place.

.

It goes on like that for the next weeks, where he avoids Niall or Niall avoids him, and he feels miserable, just all the time. Puts all of his focus on teaching, and the students are smart, can tell something’s off between them. Don’t see them walking together in the halls, hands held, or laughing and talking to each other during meals.

He hears the paintings on the walls or the ghosts talk sometimes, see the sad faces, and then Liam and Zayn won’t stop prodding him about it, and it doesn’t take very long at all to get short with them.

Just as well, as examinations have begun and he forces himself to be too busy to think about anything other than tests and practical exams and grading and-

He’s really very sad. 

His first year’s written exams have just ended, and he’s packing up their tests when one of them comes forward, and he knows what’s coming.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Finch-Fletchley?” he says, looking at her with a kind smile.

“Headmaster Tomlinson wanted to see you, sir,” she says, clutching her books shyly. “In his office? As soon as possible. And he said that he thinks David Beckham is a wizard.”

“Okay, thank you,” he says, sighing as he faces another conversation with Louis.

He deposits his things in his office, and then even the griffin frowns at him, and he just gives it a reproachful glare as it lets him in reluctantly, and Louis is already sitting behind his desk, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“Have you broken up?” he asks as soon as he steps in, all dramatic flair and a great frown on his face. 

Harry sighs, decides not to come in any further. “Louis, are you honestly-”

“Never seen the two of you so stroppy before, I’m not used to it,” he says. “You two are always, at least, tolerably gleeful, maybe longingly stroppy, in your part, for the past ten-something years, but. Never stroppy  _ stroppy.” _

“Louis, I have exams to check,” he says, irritated and not in the mood, about to turn away.

“Niall’s not talking to anyone, these days,” he says before Harry can move away, and it makes him pause. “And a lot of the students are saying he’s been really out of it, during lessons. His hair’s always like that ugly blonde or really dark, and. Harry, what did you do to him?”

“I don’t know!” he says, blinks hard and the other portraits in the room properly wake up, and stare at him. “Ask Niall-”

“I just told you, Niall won’t talk to anyone about it,” he says, rolls his eyes at him. “I had to ask Payno about it. So what if he got offered a job? What does it matter?”

“He won’t be here anymore, Lou!” he says, blinking harder and his lip wobbles and many of the Headmasters make sympathetic noises, knowing where this is going. “I just got here and I just got my shit together but I didn’t want to stop him from trying this. And I was just trying to be helpful, you know? I thought he might have wanted to take it and he looked like he did, or I thought so, and I know that was my fault, but. I don’t know. I was just trying to encourage him to take the opportunity.”

“Even though he said he was more than happy, staying on as a teacher?” Louis prods, and Harry sniffs.

“I got scared, I just. Maybe I was looking for reassurance, even though it had already been given to me.”

“But he said he’d stay.”

“I know, but. I was being shitty, I don’t know, I didn’t know how to tell him-”

“Foolish, insolent boy,” a voice says from within the room, and both Louis and Harry look about for who had spoken. To their surprise, and most of the other portraits, Snape is staring down at him from his perch. He looks cold, but mostly, just very sad. “You tell him what it is you want.”

“But-”

“What excuse do you have?” he says, raising an eyebrow at him, and Harry keeps his silence. “Such a small problem, so easily fixed if you had the courage to just tell him you love him.”

It goes quiet, and Harry’s eyes sting, and he looks away, down to the floor. 

“You don’t deny it, then?” he sneers, and he stays silent still. “Tell me, then, Styles. Why are you trying to put words in his mouth? Making decisions for him despite the fact that he’s already made his choices and he’s very much made up his mind?”

“Severus,” Louis tries, but Dumbledore shakes his head, and he stops. 

“This isn’t a problem, Professor,” he says, and it sounds condescending, but Harry will let it slide. “Maybe a slight complication, but it’s not so terrible as you make it out to be. Lucky for you, it is not so difficult to remedy. You tell him what it is you really want. What it is you honestly feel for him, otherwise.”

He trails off, going silent, and Harry blinks rapidly. He sees the other portraits look to Snape, whose sad eyes betray his feigned stoic, cold nature. 

“Tell him you love him,” he says, clears his throat discretely, and he stares straight at Harry. “At the very least, no matter what will come to be, at least you’ve told him.”

.

He looks for Niall, can’t quite get the words out of his head. Lunch hasn’t quite ended, but he hadn’t been in the Great Hall, or any of the gardens or on the grounds or the lake. 

Harry goes to his classroom, probably should have gone there first, and he’s there, standing in the middle of the room, next to a wardrobe of a sort, luggage next to him and he’s not looking at Harry. 

“Niall?” He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge his presence. “Ni.” Still nothing, just fiddles about with his trunk and defiantly not paying any sort of attention to him. 

“Okay, okay, you don’t need to talk to me, but. Please, just, please listen,” he says, and his hands are clammy and his chest goes tight and he has to lay it all on the line. “I know you’re cross with me, I know. And you have every right to be, but I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t - I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do, or to insult you, or. Or anything, that wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry.”

Niall glances at him, face blank, before he looks at his things again, looking through his bags. Harry’s heart falls, but he goes on anyway, in for a penny, “I just. I was scared, and things were just getting good, but I should have just listened to you instead of making a big deal out of something that was never an issue in the first place. Shouldn’t have questioned your decisions.”

Still, he doesn’t do anything. He’s disheartened, but still. “I don’t know if you’re leaving because you took the offer, or if you just don’t want to see me, or. I don’t know. I don’t know, but I don’t care, because it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I love you, doesn’t matter where you are and if I’m going to have to Apparate every single day just to see you for a few hours. I’ll do it. I’ll do it because I’ve been in love with you for most of my life and this year has just made me even surer of that.”

Niall goes on to play with his wand, and Harry blinks rapidly, sniffs, but he supposes this could have been a possibility. Just didn’t expect it to be the outcome now, but in any case. 

“Okay,” he says, but he doesn’t allow himself to deflate. At least he knows, and he tried. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, or didn’t tell you in time. I want you to stay, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you, wherever you are. I really want you to stay here, but you’ll be amazing with the team. I’ll cheer you on from here.”

Nothing still. “Okay, okay. I love you. I really do, I’m so, so in love with you.”

“Professor?”

He freezes, and looks behind him. The whole fourth year class is there, watching him profess his love, and waiting to take their exam.

“Miss Weasley,” he recognizes the voice who’d addressed him, and she blinks at him. 

“We’re, um, we’re supposed to be having our practical examinations, sir.”

“Right, yes,” he says, embarrassed, and he glances one more time at Niall, and turns back to them. “How much did you hear?”

“All of it,” Scorpius Malfoy says, and half of the class looks at him reproachfully, the other half shares his awkwardness. 

“Sorry, that was. Sorry,” he says instead, cheeks red, “Anyway. I was just about to go.”

“Sir, we-”

“Yes, yes, you have an exam, I’ll be out of your way-”

“Sir, that’s a boggart,” Scorpius says over him, straight to the point.

Time seems to come to a stop. Harry can’t quite move, and he tries, tries to understand what’s come out of his mouth.

“What?” he says, lacking all the words.

“That’s a boggart,” she supplies when no one else does. “Not the real Professor Horan. A boggart.”

He freezes, can’t come to terms with what’s happening, and he’s almost afraid to know if Niall, the actual real one, is actually there. He looks to the side, catching the flash of pink, and just his luck, because he is, his eyes wide and blue behind the thick-rimmed glasses Harry loves so much, his mouth slightly open in shock, and he’s so pretty, just everything Harry wants in life and more.

“Sh-shit,” he says slowly, can’t stop staring at Niall, who in turn hasn’t stopped looking at him, hair getting brighter and pinker and his face reddening quickly. “I - shit,  _ shit.” _

Niall doesn’t move, the boggart in turn getting confused with all the new bodies and thoughts in the room, and it retreats back into the wardrobe. 

“Maybe, maybe I should just,” Harry tries to leave, but the students block the door, and he wants to die and melt into the earth.

“Sir, were you - were you really going to leave Hogwarts?” one of them pipes up, and Harry will melt himself if he has to.

“No,” Niall answers slowly, but very surely. He doesn’t stop looking at Harry. “Like I’d told your Charms professor here, I’m not leaving. I love my job in this school, and just so we’re all very clear on it, I called Barry Ryan up, and turned down his offer myself.”

Harry blinks at him, and he feels very foolish, very relieved, very much not wanting to be here, and most of all, very much hopelessly in love.

Niall doesn’t move still, at least until Malfoy pushes him forward with a gentle, but very firm shove, and he looks back reproachfully at his sly grin, but he moves all the same, moves towards Harry.

“Excuse me, Professor, but we have to get this examination underway,” he says, and Harry’s heart drops. 

“Yes, of course,” he says, nodding and showing his understanding, sad and disappointed though he may be. “Sorry to intrude-”

The words are shocked right out of him when Niall kisses him, very short, but all the same. He stares at him, and his eyes are blazing, vibrant blue and there’s a small smile on his face, solely for him. His heart shoots right back up into his chest, beats harder and faster and his chest goes so tight, in the exact way he wants it to.

“You shit,” Niall says, and Harry laughs. “I’m not done with you, but. I love you, you shit.”

Squeals and  _ “Get in, Professor!”’s  _ are heard all around, and Harry can’t stop smiling at him. “Fuck, I have to finish this exam, we’ll talk later-”

Harry reels him in, holds him round the waist and kisses him properly, cue more squeals and cheers, and he could not be happier, feels like home when Niall laughs into his mouth, oral Cheering Charm lighting him up from the inside out.

.

Niall laughs, and Harry hides his reddened face in his shoulder, when Louis, during the End-of-Term Feast, bewitches half of the red and gold banners celebrating Gryffindor’s House Cup win, magicking them to be embossed with the word,  _ “NARRY!!!”  _ in a ridiculously regal font. 

“I waited fifteen years for this, you gits, live with it,” he tells them, and the rest of the school chants along with him.

It catches on, much too quickly, and Harry finds he can live with it.

**Author's Note:**

> I am both a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw. I have two Pottermore accounts that I'm still confused about that's why aha.
> 
> Thank you so much! 
> 
> I am [here](http://castlestylan.tumblr.com).


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